Faith
by Letskillallthelawyers
Summary: (Set after the events of season three) After six years Donna has got herself a family and a life. Until she meets Stephen again. The certainties crumble when a secret she's been holding since then might come out.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at writing a story with chapters and not a one shot, so it's harder to organize the development.**

**I just really hope you can understand and follow it smoothly.**

**This might not be everyone's cup of tea, but the idea was one of the many what ifs that my mind has created during the seasons and now that I've launched myself into writing, I wanted to give it a try.**

**I'm not even going to talk about the end of suits, because I'll have another breakdown and we don't want to open that can of worms again :)**

**G-**

Rachel pads towards the bedroom during the early hours of the morning, wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself with one hand and holding a cup of fresh coffee with the other.

The coldness of the floor sends shivers up her spine.

She steps over the threshold and finds her boyfriend slipping into his shoes, tie still undone hanging around his neck.

"What are you doing up so early? Didn't your deposition start at ten?" She asks, voice still hoarse after the hours of sleep.

"Well, something came up. I have to take care of it before that." Mike responds yawning, clearly not that excited someone had pulled him out of the arms of Morpheus.

"The boss called?" She guesses chuckling.

"The boss called." He confirms, standing up and walking towards the brunette.

She places the mug down on the nightstand, then grabs his tie and starts working on it.

"What for?"

"Bishop is playing the hardass, we're going there to convince him to retract."

"And why is your presence needed since you have nothing to do with it?" Rachel runs her fingers down the silk piece of suit, securing the knot.

"I have absolutely no idea." Mike shrugs while his phone dings.

"Well, it seems like I have to go," He gives her a quick peck on the lips. "I'll see you later."

With that, he grabs his coat and leaves the apartment, rushing to the vehicle that was waiting for him.

Knocking a few times on the glass of the window, he waits for the car door to be opened, expecting to take his usual spot beside his partner in the back.

Instead, the glass comes down and reveals not just one, but two redheads.

The bigger one raises the big pair of sunglasses on top of her head and looks at him mockingly.

"Nice for you to show up."

"Please, I was an ace. Wasn't I Penelope?" He says, addressing the other girl.

She throws him the exact same look her mother gave him, maybe with a little bit more of sagacity.

It's almost frightening how much she resembles Donna, and not just physically.

Sure, the red locks and the fine features do their work, but her personality is the real deal.

Even if he's not sure someone can exactly inherit its attitude, the witty remarks, incredible empathy and brightness clearly come from somewhere.

Or maybe it's just taking on the traits of the person that raises you.

Either way, Penelope is definitely Donna's mini-me.

"Mh, I don't think so." She says, shaking her tiny head and crossing her little arms.

"P! You are supposed to be on my side!" He pouts, making her giggle. "And you are literally on my side of the car!" He gasps dramatically at the realization. "Speaking of which, why is she here?" Mike wonders, turning to Donna.

"I couldn't leave her home alone and I wasn't able to find a sitter in time." She explains.

"And her father?" He suggests and glances at the child, who is occupied by taking her breakfast out of the basket.

"Her father is useless." She lets the sentence slip off, taking advantage of the fact the kid isn't listening.

"Wait a minute," The lawyer understands. "You don't need my help, do you? You just need me to babysit!"

"Oh come on! With that brain of yours you were supposed to figure it out immediately." Donna rolls her eyes. "Now do you want to stand there and talk about your lack of intuition or do you want to get into the car?"

Mike lets out a sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but climbs into the car regardless.

The two girls slide on their sits to make room for the new traveller.

Penelope takes her belongings onto her lap, as her mother smoothes down her little pink skirt.

"Mike, don't you want to sit in the front?" The child asks, a little uncomfortable pressed between him and her mother.

"No, I prefer to hang out with you two." He sweetly smiles at her.

.

.

Penelope is pacing up and down the waiting room, restless and bored by the way her day have turned.

She scoffs loudly to get Mike's attention and taps her shoe on the floor repeatedly.

"I'm sorry you are not having fun, but this isn't exactly how I envisioned my morning either." The man says from his seat, stretching his back.

"You could at least let me use your phone…" She throws off casually.

"Nope, you know what your mum thinks about that." He calls her out of her bluff.

At her obvious disappointment, he almost feels guilty. He can never say not to her.

Out of the blue, he comes up with an idea.

"Come here." Mike pats the chair next to him.

The little one climbs into it and looks at him expectantly.

He takes his iPhone out of his pocket and unlocks it, searching the new issue of _The Times_ online.

"No one can say you can't catch formative information while I casually read the newspaper."

Her face lights up and she shifts closer to him.

Penelope is probably the only human being on earth that enjoys reading the journal before the age of at least twenty.

It's one of the crazy things that Mike loves about her.

It kind of reminds him of himself.

The two of them are too caught up with the business section to notice someone approaching them.

"Mike Ross." He hears someone calling his name out.

He raises his gaze to meet an ice blue one.

He has patchs of facial hair on his cheeks and his features have been affected by the time that has passed and the ultimate events.

The man standing in front of him is certainly different from the last time he saw him, but the circumstances were very different.

That reminds him that he isn't even supposed to be there.

"Stephen Huntley." Mike acknowledges him incredulously. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be..."

"Yeah, right," He cuts his hint off. "I've done six years and I just got out, you know, with good behavior." He buries his hands in his pockets and raises his shoulders, a little embarrassed. Talking about it still hurts.

There's a pregnant pause, before Stephen speaks again. "I'm here to get back on track, I guess." He adds.

"Nice to know that they let convicts reintegrate so easily." Mike comments harshly.

Stephen lets the remark slip off and changes the subject of the conversation.

"And who's that? Is she your daughter?" He wonders, indicating the child next to him, who is still reading the article online.

Truth is, that little girl is the real reason he has come to talk to Mike in the first place.

There's something about her, something that draws his attention.

It's like gold for a magpie.

He has laid eyes on her and, next thing he knew, he was walking towards them.

"Oh no. She's not." He simply states, not letting anything else slide.

Although, the former prisoner isn't exactly satisfied with that little information.

He wants to find out the reason he is interested in that apparently anonymous kid.

"Hi," He cocks his head a little bit, as he greets the child. "I'm Stephen, what's your name?" He gently asks.

The girl raises her eyes from the screen and her gaze meets his.

He is affected by the action more than he could have possibly thought.

Something is definitely familiar about that look.

A strange feeling fills his stomach and he finds himself slightly dazed.

"Penelope." She finally answers.

She might find a stranger asking her name a little bit weird, but Mike's with her and her mother has taught her to always respond politely to questions.

Stephen lowers himself to stand at her same level.

"You're really pretty. How old are you?" He keeps going, hoping to get more without making the situation awkward.

Unfortunately for him, Mike is already more than uneasy. He wouldn't like to have contact with the man in general, but him talking to Penelope is another thing.

He knows the history between him and her mother, and realizes that it's better to get away before she gets back.

"P, you don't have to-" He tries before she cuts him with her response. "Five years old."

The number won't ring any bell for the first few minutes.

They hear some steps, announcing the arrival of a feminine figure.

Still glancing at the folder in her hands, Donna walks in their direction at a brisk pace.

"Of course I handled it perfectly, but again I'm a natural at-" She starts smugly, but stops roughly once she looks up.

Her mind suddenly doesn't work anymore, the sight of the man leaving her undone.

It's like she's there, but she's really not.

Everything and everyone around her is blur; she feels completely disconnected.

Like she's been thrown there right then and doesn't know a thing about what is going on. Thinking about it, it's exactly what it's about.

Never in a million years, Donna would have thought to see her former_-what _?

What the hell was he to her?

A lover? A boyfriend? A man she was seeing?

Was there even a relationship? Or what they had called a _short-term arrangement_?

It's sure, though, that, never in a million years, she would have thought to see her former-something ever again.

And the certainty used to stand on a very solid base: him being behind the bars.

Donna relied on that, and it made her feel safe.

Not because she had been afraid of Stephen planning revenge against her, but because he had left her with nothing but shame and guilt.

And probably a little something else, slightly more important. Not that she has ever known for sure.

"Donna." His voice comes out almost as a whisper, and he comes to stand again.

The English man has thought about her several times over the years.

The fierce redhead had definitely left him with something too.

Although, his idea of her is clearly brighter than hers.

Even if she was the one who delivered the exciting news of his incarceration, his opinion of her hasn't changed, high as ever.

The betrayal had been his; he had lied to her and tried to cover up his crimes.

If he has to be honest, he had actually been fascinated by the ex-secretary's courage to call him out of his bullshit.

So that's why when he looks at her after six years, all he can focus on is how beautiful she is.

She's little thinner than before, but still in great shape, the waves of her hair have loosened up a bit and her face has developed an extra glow. She is stunning.

"Stephen." She finally lets out what sounds more like a question.

At the answer of the mother, Penelope hoops off the seat and runs to her.

"Mom, can we go now?" She pulls down at Donna's dress, throwing her head backwards.

It hits him without warning.

Donna is a mother.

She is the mother of that kid.

That's where the familiar look came from.

"Yeah, yeah. Mike, why don't you wait for me in the car?" She is taken off her state of confusion.

"Are you sure you ok, Don?"

"Uh. Don't worry, I'll be done in a minute."

She quickly dismisses them.

Mike doesn't need to be told twice, and, in a minute, they're out of the room.

Donna follows the two of them with her gaze, until they're out of sight and she abruptly turns her head to look at him.

"How the hell are you here?"

"Good behavior and a couple of good deals." He simply states.

She should have seen that coming. It's how they always get off scot-free.

She takes a big breath and redirects her gaze to the ground.

"So..." He cuts the heavy silence. "I have met your kid, she's wonderful."

She doesn't like where the conversation is heading, and feels the urge to walk away from the situation. Immediately.

It might look too hurried, but she can't take it anymore.

"Yeah. That actually reminds me she's waiting for me, so..." She chickens out.

Donna turns on her heels and starts walking away.

Stephen has been genuinely taken aback by the news.

Donna isn't the feisty ginger secretary he used to know.

She's got a family and everything.

She's probably a different woman now.

She's moved on so quickly. Maybe too quickly.

And finally, that ring bells.

His mind moving so fast and getting to a shocking possibility.

"She told me she's five." He tells, loud enough for her to hear.

She stops dead. Freezed.

Should she ignore him? But what he has just mentioned can't be casual.

"She was born little after I was arrested." He adds.

With that her worst fear becomes real.

He knows.

Without turning back, she murmurs a chocked _goodbye Stephen, _and gets away from her nightmare. For now.

.

.

Donna gets inside the car in a hurry.

Landing heavily on the seat, she leans against it and closes her eyes.

Her body pumps out adrenaline and she needs to calm down.

"Donna-" Mike starts.

"Not now."

He understands that he doesn't have to push her, giving the sensitive subject and wanting to leave the little person next to them oblivious.

The car ride is extremely quiet, a sense of awkwardness and tension filling the air.

So Penelope is glad when they reach the apartment and she can go in her room and play by herself, leaving the two adults alone.

The second the bedroom's door closes, Donna jumps at Mike's throat.

"Why did you let him talk to her?"

"I didn't! I was trying to get us out of the situation but I didn't have the time-"

"You don't understand. I didn't even want that piece of shit to know about her existence!" She points out, frantically moving around.

"You're right, I do not understand. Why is it such a big deal that he knows her name and how old she is?" He throws his hands in the air desperately.

She stops by the couch and sits on its head, looking away.

She brings her hand to her forehead and starts rubbing it, looking down.

He can sense there's more to the story, something she's not telling him.

He doesn't want to see her hurt, but can't exactly help her if he doesn't understand what's the problem.

Mike remembers how overwhelmed Donna was when she broke up with Stephen, but presently he can't make sense of her fear.

He's right, she must seem crazy right now.

At least for someone who doesn't know the whole truth.

"You know, it's just... I don't like having him around." That's not a complete lie.

"None of us does, but we'll be okay."

The nods, even if she doesn't believe it.

Her expression cracks in a tentative smile, to which he responds.

"What was he even doing there?" She frowns.

"Apparently he wants to get in business with Bishop or something like that."

"Are tou kidding me?" She chuckles loudly, not because she's amused, but out of frustration. "Of course, why not, I don't know, maybe getting a walk in central park and enjoying your freedom?" She shakes ger head. "Nah, let's get on the train!"

"I know, it sucks." He feels her. "You want me to stay?" He gladly offers.

In these later years, Mike has significantly gotten closer to Donna.

When he found out she was expecting -and a father seemed nowhere to be seen- he was ready to let her move in with him and Rachel.

He wanted to help her raise the kid and enjoy the wonderful moments that were going to come.

Instead, things took a different -but good- way and, once the baby was born, it was like he had been given a little sister.

Donna had then been promoted to COO, and embraced the projects he took to the firm with open arms.

That's when he started to call her "boss", the name always bringing a smile to her lips.

"No need, the prodigal husband should come home soon." She reassures him.

Mike nods in understanding and, after interrupting Penelope to kiss her goodbye, leaves.

.

.

It's almost six p.m. when she hears the keys jingle in the lock and soon land on the kitchen island.

She's curled up on the couch, lips still wet by the glass of wine she's drinking.

He slowly comes behind her and leaves a kiss on the top of her head, the smell of her shampoo meeting his nostrils.

She lets him squeeze her shoulder passively.

"I missed you today." He tells her, in the tone of voice that he reserves only for her.

He heads towards the fridge, to pour himself a glass of water.

Opening it, he notices the lack of supplies and takes a mental note.

"Listen, we'll have to go to the grocery store sooner or later."

She just shifts on her spot and tucks the blanket right under her stomach, suddenly feeling hotter than before.

"Harvey..." Is the only thing that comes out of her mouth, slightly trembling.

"Uh-uh..." He absently answers, moving backwards to scan the few items a little better.

"He knows." She murmurs with her eyes prickling.

"Who knows what?" Harvey asks, as he closes the fridge with a bottle of water in hand.

"He knows." She says again, more meaningfully.

He fully understands what she's talking about the moment she turns around and makes eye contact with him.

Now it's his time to reply those words.

"He knows."

**What does Stephen know?**

**Aand this is all for now. I will update soon, of course if you are interested. Please leave a review so I can figure out if there's a reason to keep going :) **

**Anyways, I named the kid Penelope on purpose; for me Darvey's baby name will always be **_**Amanda, **_**but this story is certainly different and it felt right to name her this way.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Not gonna lie to you, out of nowhere, I couldn't find any good ideas. Let's just say that I know where this story is going to lead, but I didn't like what I put into words. Never experienced it, not funny. But at the end of the day, I think I recovered. **

**Anyways, this chapter is going to help you fill some blanks and understand the situation better. Plus, the more time passes, the more I miss suits, and writing Harvey and Donna as parents gives me joy :)**

**Have fun reading!**

**G-**

"Okay so," Harvey says taking the two items scattered on the bed. "Which one do you like better?" He asks holding up a pink and white t-shirt with one hand, and a blue dress with the other.

Penelope hums and rubs her chin, while contemplating her options. Her eyes scan the clothes one more time and then she finally chooses.

"The dress." She asserts.

"You sure?" He asks as he walks towards her closet and hangs the discarded piece.

"Yes," She insist. "Because choosing the top would mean choosing the bottom, and we both know that's not your thing."

Harvey lets out a throaty chuckle and shakes his head in disbelief.

When will she stop amazing him?

Sometimes his first instinct is to reply like he would to someone of his age, then he remembers she's just a little girl. A little girl that somehow always manages to to leave him speechless. Her bluntness is something that she'll have to work on, and, as her parent, he'll have to be the one to guide her. But, for now, he just enjoys witnessing at the shaping of her character, now that she's barrier-free. He wants to remember how she really was before having to adapt to the adult code. Even if he's more scared she'll become a hothead.

"Listen, since you seem to have it all under control, I'm gonna go to the kitchen to help mum, alright?"

She responds non-verbally, just nodding her head.

The lawyer steps out of the closet and walks towards the living space to find a barefoot Donna packing her daughter's lunch for school.

She pats the counter to find the food, not noticing that it's placed on the other table. He takes the sandwich and hands it to her. Her eyes land first on his, then to what he's holding. She accepts it and puts it in the yellow backpack. Her rose lips curve slightly in a thin smile while she mouths a thank you.

"So..." Harvey tastes the waters. "Are we going to acknowledge what you said last night?"

She has seen that coming, but still, she can't possibly be prepared for that kind of conversation.

"Harvey..."

"No, don't Harvey me. You cannot say something like that and then act like nothing happened." He complies.

"I'm not, just," She navigates through the mess of the living room, gathering a few toys left around. "Now is not the time."

"Well, apparently there's never a good time." He grows frustrated because of her neglect. In the past he has been the one to avoid facing the truth and get away from the sincere conversation they should have had. And now the karma wheel has come, leaving him to endure her being evasive.

Donna sighs loudly and rolls her eyes. Heavily, which upsets Harvey even more. He raises his dark eyebrows and sticks his tongue into his inner cheek, ending with pushing the air out of his nostrils.

"We don't do that anymore, Donna. We don't walk away, we face it. Together."

"Yeah, I'm glad you came to this beautiful conclusion, but it took you several years, so forgive me if I need a little more time." She says with a tone of irony that doesn't encounter his liking.

Before he can reply something, they're reached by the sound of little footsteps.

"I'm all ready!" Penelope announces bouncily, rushing into the room. She stops in front of her parents, closes her fists and raises her shoulders, letting her arms rest tightly at her sides.

Instantly, the rules they have set before she was born come to their minds as a big red light.

Rule number one: don't fight FOR ANY REASON in front of your daughter.

Rule number two: if you are fighting and she shows up, don't let her understand what's going on.

Rule number three: don't try to fake a forced happy face, she's too smart and she'll understand.

Rule number four: try and think about something good to make your behavior look more realistic.

Harvey is the one to take the lead and heed the child, while Donna turns around, closes her eyes and takes a big breath. It only takes her a minute, before she recomposes herself and starts cleaning up again.

"Look at you! You're so beautiful!" Harvey compliments the little girl, taking her hand and spinning her around. Her flowy dress follows gently her movements; that reminds him of his and Donna's first dance as man and wife. The memory brings a sincere smile to his lips. Rule number four: checked.

She mirrors his expression, but her face falls when her mother yells at her.

"Penelope how many times have I told you to not leave your things around!" She scolds with the stuffed elephant she has tripped over in her hand. "God I don't know what to do with you anymore." She enters the playroom slamming the door.

The two of them jump at the sound, and, when Harvey blinks, he notices the kid is tearing up. Guilt spreads all over her features and her lower lip quivers. It doesn't take a genius to understand that she's going to cry, but, having raised her, he knows that's her signature look when she's about to burst into tears. It's always been like that, since she was just a baby. Tightness presses on his chest at her sight.

"Hey," He comforts her, putting his palm on her shoulder. "Mom's just a little nervous. She's not really mad at you." He reassures.

She sniffs and crunches her mouth to keep it down. Although her real mood doesn't go unnoticed by her father, who, by the way, has seen this kind of facade in her mother. He knows it too well.

Harvey takes her in his arms, his strong arms than has always managed to keep her safe. He rubs her back while she snuggles closer to his chest.

"It's okay, really." He puts her down after several minutes. "C'mon, I'll take you to school, we don't want to deny anyone the sight of you in this dress." He cheers her up.

Harvey considers advising Donna they're making their way out, but decides it's better letting her blow some steam off.

He closes the door with heavy heart, not knowing that she's still locked up inside the playroom, sobbing and holding the tiny elephant close to her chest.

.

.

_Six years ago:_

_Donna pulls the glass door of Harvey's office and steps in the room. She closes it behind her and takes a few heavy steps ahead. She still moves around the firm gracefully, but an attentive eye can see something is different . Like Harvey's eye. _

_If he had to tell the whole truth, he had kinda avoided her. And now he feels like he has neglected her, missing that she hasn't been okay. Maybe because of him._

"_You wanted to see me?" She asks formally, perhaps a little bit too formally._

_She seems almost sick, like she's about to pass out; a mixture of paleness, big black round circles under a pair of glassy eyes and tired body. But the thing that raises a red flag is the way her shoulders are tense, yet her posture acquires a shade of insecurity rather than fierceness._

_He examines her a few more times, lingering on her longer than normal. This would have usually gotten a reaction out of her, probably some witty joke about his staring, but he gets none. Another clear sign something is not right. _

"_Yes, I wanted to ask you to make some copies of the Phillips Merger." He asks with a hidden agenda, handing her a stack of documents._

_Her brain needs several seconds to get the message the ears have heard. Her dead eyes_ _break away from the invisible spot she was looking at, before they scan the surroundings and land on the folders._

_She absently takes them out of his hands and goes to step out of the room without saying a word._

"_No wait," He catches her attention. "You don't make photocopies. You've told me that the first week you've started working for me." He reminds her._

_She turns around wearily and he swears he has never seen her eyes so briefly open. Almost as she's trying not to fall asleep._

"_I don't understand Harvey, do you want me to make these damn copies or not?" She says, slightly annoyed._

"_That isn't even the Phillips Merger, Donna." He reveals to her, motioning at the files she's holding._

_She takes more than necessary to understand what he's talking about, no less. He is starting to worry. He senses she wants to reply, but she's too tired to engage in that kind of conversation. _

"_Why would you give me the wrong-" She questions his intentions, but gets cut off._

"_You would have seen that coming miles away..." Harvey starts._

_When the eye contact is not exactly needed, her gaze falls back into the oblivion. It's frightening how distracted she is. He's basically talking to another person, might as well be a wall. So he does what she would do to him; after all, the situation requires a Donna, and she clearly can't be her. _

"_Ok, stop being ridiculous and tell me already." He switches from good to bad cop._

_His secretary doesn't give him less than a thirty percent attention, just enough to articulate a comply. _

"_What are you saying?" She mumbles._

"_I'm saying you haven't been yourself lately, and I want to know why." Harvey demands firmly, but gently._

_She frowns her brows._

"_You have dragged yourself around like a ghost for days now. You don't speak, you don't participate, you don't even notice when I set a trap..." He continues._

_The position he has assumed is becoming uncomfortable for him. It gives him the feeling of being just a demanding boss whining about his lazy secretary._

"_I'm sorry, I'll be more accurate. Now if you excuse me," She tells him as she heads out for the second time._

"_You really don't get it do you?" He chuckles nervously with a shake of his head. "I don't give a shit about your work performance, I care about you!" He raises his voice. After all, she isn't the only one who is being hurting._

_Donna hates the fact that, even though she is the subject of their conversation, she's feeling sorry for him. She just can't stand she's making him worry. But she knows that keeping the secret from him can be more good than bad; because it would break him. Or at least she has the audacity of presuming it._

_She remains silent as a crypt. _

"_If this is about what happened between us-" He tentatively suggests._

"_It's not." She reassures him, even if it sure has affected her. _

"_Then what it is? Donna you can't just cut me out. Talk to me." He pleads._

_Suddenly her eyes are fixated on his, and he almost wishes she had kept them on the floor. They are filled with pain and rage._

_They don't belong to his Donna. _

"_Talk to you? Really? Why do I have to be the one to talk to you when you have bailed out after that night?!" She shouts at him with a newfound force._

_It's a knife that cuts deep in his guts. Because she's accusing him of exactly what he did._

"_I get that Harvey. I was hurting, we got caught up in the moment and we slept together." She says matter-of-factly, depriving that moment of the love they have both felt, but that neither of them have had the courage to confess. "You want to forget about it and move on? Fine by me, but then you can't act like you're so thoughtful."_

_Within a few minutes, they are yelling at each other. The contents are not even understandable, giving they're speaking at the same time. It's just a stream of unspoken feelings and turmoils. The room fills with tension and they are ticking bomb machines. One of them is going to explode. _

"_Ok fine, you want to know what's going on? I'm pregnant, Harvey." _

_There it is. _

_It's out. _

_She hasn't even been sure about saying it out loud, till she did. _

_All the colors leave Harvey's face and his breath gets sucked from his lungs. His stomach turns and his ears ring._

_He has lost too much time being a coward. Now she'll walk out of his life, for something bigger and better._

"_You want to talk about the fact that I'm ashamed like never in my life? That I'm lost and scared? That I'm possibly carrying a murder's baby?" She keeps going._

"_What you mean possibly?" He manages to let out._

"_I don't know if it's Stephen's or yours." She confesses with a broken voice._

_._

_._

Harvey had arrived at the office right on time. He always does when he takes Penelope to school. But, with his busy schedule, that doesn't happen very much. Is usually him who delegates the task to Donna, having more flexible hours, or Heather, being the babysitter. He had thought that meant not being a good dad and expecting the woman to do all the work. Instead, Donna has assured him that, being COO, she had more leeway.

Harvey had expected her to come into work after a hour maximum. Then he would have had to find her in her office, hear the usual grievances, and finally they would talk.

On the contrary, she's nowhere to be seen till it's late afternoon.

"We have to talk." Donna storms into Harvey's office.

"Oh, so I don't hear from you since your outburst this morning and now you want to talk?" He drops his fountain pen on the desk and leans back on his seat.

"Harvey." She warns.

In all the years they've been together, he's grown to understand when's the moment to tease and when's the moment to drop it. This is one of them.

Plus, her saying his name like that, is enough to make him lower his guard.

"Fine, tell me what happened." His features soften, as he gets ready to listen.

Donna walks closer and, keeping her dress in place with both hands, takes one of the seats in front of his desk, crossing her legs. She opens her mouth, but closes it immediately after. Finding the words is harder than expected. She knows exactly how she feels, yet, verbalizing it is a totally different thing. So, she goes with a simple summary of the event, hoping that - as always - he'll be able to draw the conclusions.

"I had to meet Bishop, you had that deposition, so I took Penelope with me and left her in the waiting room with Mike.

When I came back he was there, talking to her and I just- I panicked.

I was about to get away from there but, out of nowhere, he commented on the fact that she was born a little after he went to prison."

"And what did you say?" He bends over and rests his elbows on the desk.

"I didn't say anything, I just walked away." She shrugs.

"So he doesn't know for sure." He suggests, full of hope.

He believes it's positive. He hasn't been told with the exact words, so Stephen can't be certain. He might as well not pay attention to it. Who knows, maybe he had just wanted to point out the fact that Donna got another man after a little time. Not a brilliant mark in Donna's fame, but certainly better than the other option.

"No, but, Harvey, that's not the point. I'm pretty sure he's understood it, but he doesn't know about you, about me and I... I don't want him around her." She tells him resolutely.

"So, where do we go from here?" Harvey wonders, giving her free choice. He's always trusted her judgment, even when she kissed him while he was seeing Paula and he told her otherwise. Truth is, he didn't trust _his _judgment. He knows what he wants, but, of course, it'll work in his interest. And right now, they have to put Penelope first.

"Look, I'm sure as hell not going to be the one to call him and tell him to join us for a tea party." He lets out chuckle at her words, forgetting for a moment the situation they might find themselves in. "And he's just gotten out of jail, he isn't in the right frame of mind to worry about parenting."

"So we just act like nothing happened?" He finds this way out too easy.

"We go on with our lives. And _if _he recurs, we'll figure it out." She says, hoping that the _if _won't be needed.

He nods as she lets out a sigh.

Donna purses her lips and gives him a sheepish look. Wanted or not, it has an affect on Harvey. She seems so vulnerable, and he suddenly feels the urge to be close to her and to kiss her.

He pulls himself and the chair slightly backwards, pushing on his feet. He motions her to come closer, with that adorable grin plastered on his face. She rounds the glass piece of furniture and comes to stand in front her husband. She acts like she expects an engraved invitation, although she knows he wants her to sit on his lap. He rolls his eyes and guides her down, while she throws her arms around his neck.

She stares right into his soul with that deep hazel eyes, and his heart beats faster. She still manages to do that like it was the first time.

"I'm sorry I put you in this position." She whispers.

"Donna," He tucks a red lock behind her ear. "The moment I told you I didn't care if I was her biological father or Stephen, I meant it." He hates that she thinks that their life is some kind of arrangement that fell into his lap. There was a choice, and he chose them.

"I know, but, " She's not sure she wants to hear the answer to this question, but keeps asking it regardless. "Do you regret it now? Not having wanted to do a paternity test? Living in the unknown?"

"Donna, if there's one thing I do know, is that I've loved her as mine since the second she was born and some blood test wouldn't have changed a thing."

Millions of butterflies are set free in her stomach, as she wonders how the hell did she get so lucky. The unconditional love and adoration she feels for him almost scares her.

"You're really something else, aren't you?" She smirks.

"I'm the one who wants to bring his wife home to _their_ daughter." He gives her a chaste yet significant peck on the lips.

"She's probably mad at me, poor kid, I yelled at her for some stuffed toy." She says standing up, followed by him.

"Watch it, that thing costed me a fortune." He laughs, breaking the tension, and lets her hook her arm around his.

.

.

Donna knocks gently on the wooden door two times. The lack of response makes her open it slightly, just enough for her to peek out. She glimpses a body under a fluffy cover and decides to slide into the room and approach the bed quietly.

She climbs into it and, resting it against the headboard, she turns her head to watch the apparently sleeping kid. Her daughter has her back turned at her and her eyes are closed. Her cheeks are a bit red because of the heat the blanket brings during the not so winterly month, and she smells like baby. The mixture of milk and clean awakens her senses, making her hormones go like crazy. She can't take it anymore and decides they have to talk now.

"Penelope?" She taps her shoulder.

Penelope is wide awake, not able to fall asleep without a goodnight kiss from her parents, especially if one of them is angry at her. But she's decided she won't talk to her mother, because she's angry too. She can't stand being scolded, so she reacts raising her walls up. Something a certain person - that Donna knows well - used to do a lot. Occasionally still does.

However, Donna knows her better than anyone else, and senses she's just faking.

"Don't do that, you make me feel a bad mother." She presses her, looking at her hands crossed on her lap.

Penelope cracks one eye open and raises her head to look behind her shoulder at the other redhead.

"You are." She whines childishly.

Donna eye-sides her, that alone makes the kid riformulate the phrase.

"I mean, you treated me badly this morning..." She tries again, a little scared by the implications of her first sentence, but still wanting to prove her point.

"You're right. I was nervous for something else and I shouldn't have snapped at you." She apologizes the only way she knows: telling the truth.

Penelope plays hard-to-get for a few seconds, but gives up immediately after, cuddling up in her mother's welcoming arms. They shift lower under the sheets, under the very hot blanket.

The COO gently caresses her scalp with one hand, and hugs her with the other.

"That doesn't mean you can leave your toys around." Donna mumbles in her hair, making her daughter laugh before they can both finally close their eyes.

When Harvey doesn't see his wife come to bed, he checks all the apartment's rooms, but he knows exactly where she is.

He stops on the threshold of Penelope's bedroom, watching mother and daughter asleep in each other's arms. A big smile splays across his lips. He just hopes he'll still get to witness to scenes like this in the future.

**Soo, I'll hopefully come back soon with a chapter where you can be sure, you'll find Stephen. Let me know what you think! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, this chapter took longer than expected, but I had very busy days. Plus, I wanted to build the dialogue between Donna and Stephen super carefully, because it's a very important step. The part where I talk about the school moms and recreate the H.O.R.S.E game totally came to me unexpectedly, but I'm glad I wrote them. **

**I want to hear from you and as usual, enjoy!**

**G-**

Four days had gone by and from Stephen not a word. Donna doesn't even know how he is supposed to contact her, but still, she can't shake off that feeling; that feeling on her neck, hovering and inevitable. Despite Harvey's positivism, Donna worries. He tells her she's being paranoid, but she knows better. She's Donna after all. And she doesn't get that feeling very often. It's like the quiet before the storm: you can't lower your guard, because, right when you don't expect it, the wind starts blowing. And she's afraid it might blow everything away.

She usually wakes up in the middle of the night, Stephen's figure haunting her dreams - turned into nightmares. Harvey hasn't noticed this unpleasant routine yet, being knocked down by the intense hours of work. He's already fast asleep, when she cautiously climbs out of the bed and stays up for a period of time between the two and the five a.m.

Her eyelids feel heavier than normal, making it almost impossible for her to keep them up. She blinks twice, rubs her eyes, and snaps them open widely in a futile attempt to keep them from falling shut again. She groans and decides to go for the third cup of coffee of the day - and it's not even eight in the morning. Bringing her hand to her forehead and waiting for a few seconds, she hears the bip of the microwave and pulls the steamy mug out of it. The warmth provides comfort to her tired body and she wishes she could just get back to bed and shut her mind off. But when she closes her eyes all she can see is his face. And she'd rather not see it ever again.

The woman finishes the beverage, checks Penelope in her room and slides under the covers next to Harvey. One minute goes by, then two, three, four... eleven. That's when the alarm starts ringing, and she's glad because she was already becoming restless. Harvey lets out a yawn and rolls on his back, turning to face her. The movement pulls down his green shirt and it gets stuck under him, showing his toned chest. This - and the triple dose of caffeine kicking in- suddenly makes her feel less tired, and the desire for her husband grows fast. But then she remembers the little one currently sleeping next door, and knows that long gone are the days they could have their morning rendezvous.

She often wonders if it would have been better to be just the two of them at the beginning of their relationship. A baby before they even got together was certainly something they hadn't planned. But life, or destiny, or whatever that was, threw them this sort of challenge and they had taken it. It wasn't like they were strangers. They had already known each other for about a decade, and they had always been a team. The one understands, completes, helps and encourages the other, professionally and personally. They just work, they always have.

"Good morning." He greets her hoarsely, sliding a hand on her waist and squeezing it gently. All this surely doesn't help to subdue her arousal.

"Good morning." She mirrors, pressing a kiss on his lips and cupping his cheek. The free hand goes on his chest - keeping him at distance.

"Don't" she warns.

"You're the one who kissed me." He justifies, but moves his hand further down. She smirks at his behavior.

"You're the one who is reaching my ass." She arches her brow, as he lets out a throaty chuckle at her repartee. "We don't have time." She reminds him.

"Don't I know it." He says defeated, rolling onto the other side and climbing out of the bed. "I'm going to wake up the kiddo, want to start making breakfast?" He asks stretching his back.

"I think it's better the other way around, old man." She whispers the last part, getting up as well. Since Harvey got his eyes checked and turned out to be as blind as a bat, Donna has begun joking about his aging. And if Mike with his prostate lines wasn't enough, now he has her pushing on the fact that he has to wear glasses. Though he doesn't at work_. Never_ at work. Or he will be hearing from Louis too, and that would be even worse.

"You and I are the same age!" He shouts without turning back and heading to his daughter's room.

Donna shakes her head, but that causes the entire room to spin, making her land on the mattress once again. Too much caffeine, very little hours of sleep. She doesn't want to take anything, meds are for the weak. Or so she tells herself to not reach for the first oppiate in the cabinet.

.

.

Maybe Donna is just like all the other moms, yet, she finds them royally annoying. It's incredibly hard not to rip their heads off, when all these wealthy ladies can do is gossip and being fake. She doesn't want to tar everyone with the same brush, in fact it's more like two: the desperate housewives and the hysterical business women. She hates them all. Plus, one of them has seemed very interested in flirting with Harvey during the PTA meeting. Of course, he shows up once, being charming and friendly, and makes women fall at his feet. This alone is probably the reason why she's been showing off her wedding ring a lot more lately.

Susan, or Sally, she wants to say, has been the biggest pain in the ass so far. Always complaining about the lack of interest and effort Penelope's mother puts in school activities. And if Donna doesn't even bother to learn her name, it's easy to figure that she doesn't listen to her complaints. But today the s-girl has called her nonstop, wanting to discuss the organization of the bake sale. At her request of bringing five baskets of home made cookies, Donna was ready to pass it off. But that bitch suggested they could meet and cook together, probably to make sure she'd handle that herself. And after using all the excuses in world to ditch her the past ten times, she couldn't say anything other than yes.

That's why she walks towards her doorway a lot earlier that usual, and finds an unpleasant surprise waiting for her.

She seeks her keys at the bottom of the purse, throwing aside all the other items. She moves a tuft of hair out of the way and looks up to unlock the door. Unawares, her gaze is met with no less than Stephen. He's sitting on the stairs, right where Mike stood years ago, when he came to apologize for the outcome of the Costal Motors' mock trial.

Donna considers avoiding him, turning around and walking away; but where is she exactly supposed to go when he's blocking her entrance and that s-woman is planning to arrive in about thirty minutes? _Damn it Susan ( or Sally). You and your stupid cookies. Because apparently that's how you show you care. Giving dental caries to the kids._

Huntley notices her presence and immediately stands up, smoothing down his dress shirt. The short sleeves, lack of suit jacket and jeans are certainly a look she's never witnessed to. She has even seen him without clothes at all, but these kind of casual outfits are definitely a first.

He raises his hand acknowledging her and starts walking slowly towards her. That's it, no turning back.

Here's the storm, and she saw it coming.

She takes a few forced steps ahead and meets him in the middle.

"I wasn't sure you still lived here." He motions at the building behind him.

When Donna was halfway through the pregnancy, she and Harvey had to decide which place they were going to live in. They didn't deem it appropriate to go house-hunting then, needing time to choose the right one. Harvey wanted Donna to follow the process as smoothly as possible, finding her enough shaken by all the sudden changes; so that's why he suggested it was him to move into her apartment. How she wishes he didn't, now.

"Well, seems like you've got your answer." She replies unsympathetically.

"I need to talk to you." He vocalizes, trying to hang on the little politeness she has and hoping she won't shut him down.

"We have nothing to say to each other." The redhead walks by him, about to insert the keys in the lock.

He instinctively grabs her arm to stop her, the contact makes her both shiver and tense up. He can feel her tremble under his skin.

"Donna-" he gets her to turn around.

"Get your hands off me or I'm going to scream." She threatens, eyes wide and on alert. They trail to where his hold stills.

"Okay." He lets go of her like her skin was on fire. "I don't want to scare you." He expands the distance between them and raises his hands in defense.

"You don't scare me." She voices with confidence. Her chin up and her gaze rough.

"So you're scared of what my presence is going to imply." True, so true. But in spite of that, she plays the fool.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Her eyes drop the eye contact; a further proof she's lying.

"Oh, but you do. Penelope." At her mention, Donna panics. She has to find a way to save her ass in no time, her mind contemplating all the possible sceneries. She shouldn't take this kind of decision on her own. What if she says the wrong thing? Can she prevent her family's misery? "Or do you want to tell me that it's all just a big coincidence?" He asks rhetorically.

There's a long pause. The air is becoming thicker and thicker, almost impossible to breathe, and her stomach is turned into tight knots.

"She's mine isn't she?" It's a statement more than a question.

"She's mine." She throws back, without even thinking and with a disarming confidence. An unexpected, but just as forceful, sense of safeguard comes out at his unearned possessiveness. "But biologically yes, you might have...offered the genetic heritage." She decides to go with the truth; he was going to press her until she broke anyway.

Stephen is astounded by her confession. Even if he was a ninety percent sure Penelope could have been conceived in the few weeks he had been with Donna, hearing her saying it out loud is a whole different deal. He's turned into a father in a blink of an eye. He realizes he has created a life, a life that takes from both him and Donna. And she hasn't thought about letting him know? That his daughter has been living all these years without his acknowledgment? Giving that it's _his _daughter and not Harvey's (you know, just saying) .

"I can't believe it. And you never told me?" He scoffs outraged.

"Yes, Stephen. I never told you because I believe you've been behind the bars for the last five years." Once the fear of exposing the truth has gotten away, nothing can stop the anger and resentment.

He knows she has a point, but that can't be the only thing that keeps him from being a father. And he sure as hell wants to be one.

"That has nothing to do with-"

"It has _everything _to do with it." She explains, putting particular emphasis on the word _everything. "_I should have, what, come during the visit hours and show you the sonogram pictures? Tell my daughter that her dad can't make it for her birthday because he has committed murders? How do you think that would have turned out?" Tears streaming down her rosy cheeks.

"I...I know I wasn't a good man, Donna." He hates to see her so hurt. Stephen truly cares about her, and thinking about her going through all of those moments without him turns on a solid sense of guilt.

She chuckles, biting her bottom lip. Her hand is brought to her face to wipe away the tears. Then she looks away, her gaze landing on her shoulder.

"I'm incredibly sorry, you deserved better. But now, now I'm here. I can be there for you."

"You're out of your mind." She shakes her head in disbelief.

"Donna, you're my family." He pleads, desperately wanting to hang on the newfound possibility of living in the warmth of a unity.

"No, we are nothing for you, you are nothing for us. And it will stay that way." She turns around, unlocks the door and stands on the doorway. He thinks twice this time before trying to stop her.

"You can't keep her away from me."

"I sure as hell can. Now leave and don't ever come back." She shuts the door and walks away.

.

.

Mike calculates the distance moving back and forth on his spot. He pokes his inner cheek with his tongue as he retraces his past shots to not slip into his mistakes again. He raises his right arm, rolls the crumpled paper in his hand and finally throws it into the trash can. He waits for it to land outside the basket and comments with a grunt his failure.

"Ah! You're so screwed." Harvey remarks amused, propping his feet on the desk.

"That's so not true." Mike points a finger at him.

"H-O-R-S, an E and you're out." The bigger lawyer says cockily.

"We agreed the R didn't count!" Mike jumps at the un exact calculation of the points. "I sprained my wrist." He justifies.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Winners don't blame the wrist, the rim or the wind speed in a closed-off room." He replies the words he had said to his sidekick over eight years ago.

"And how many times do I have to tell you that the fan was on?!" He walks back to the desk, grabbing another sheet of paper.

"You know," Harvey says while Mike continues his task, crumpling the page. "that forests are in danger and you are wasting paper losing."

Mike rolls his eyes and throws him an _are you serious _look.

"Don't look at me like that, you're the one who deletes every effort our society makes to make our earth a safe place." He throws his own ball into the bucket.

"You should become an environmental attorney." Mike suggests.

"Yeah, when they see that fur my wife has..."

"Wasn't it synthetic?" Mike asks, shooting from below this time. It hits the ground, but Harvey doesn't seem to notice.

"She claims." He replies, smacking Mike's hand when the boy is about to reach another piece of paper and try his luck again. He mocks a hurt expression and caresses his hand dramatically.

"Speaking of your wife," The loser begins.

"What about her?" Harvey gets his feet off the table to sit straight.

"Is she ok?" He wonders, taking a seat in front of his mentor.

That Donna told Mike what happened? Or maybe she spoke to Rachel, who then told Mike? He finds it hard to believe. The matter too sensitive for her to discuss it with any other one that's not him. And they had agree not to mention it.

"Yes, why would you ask?" He shrugs, apparently unable to stop fidgeting with the pen in his hands.

_Damn it,_ once he was better at bluffing; hell, he was the best at bluffing. He recalls when his skills saved the day, people always in need for him to take them out of shit, him often recurring to cons to accomplish that. But again, that used to happen a lot more when his only interest was winning billions worth lawsuits and when he didn't have to come home to someone. As a matter of fact, he doesn't work as much as he did before, _long late nights_ turned into _get in time to tuck you daughter in nights. _Though, that's a lot better.

"Just... in Bishop's office, when she saw Stephen, and then... well she seemed very upset. I just want to know how she's doing."

His dedication for his family makes him feel like he can really count on someone if things gone wrong. Harvey Specter values nothing more than Donna and Penelope, so when he says he would trust him with their lives, he's pretty damn serious.

"I appreciate your concern Mike, but she's fine." He lies, then tries to redirect the route of the conversation, keeping him from going further. "Anyway, have you had troubles with Bishop?"

"Mh," Mike thinks about it. "At first there had been a misunderstanding, but Donna took care of it."

"Okay..." Harvey trails off, not too convinced.

"Why? Are _we _having any troubles with him?"

"No, but still he hasn't called." Harvey shoots yet another time, his eyes squeeze following the path of the ball. It dunks. His features crack in a celebratory smile.

"Seems weird." He observes.

"Okay, I should get going. You know, some of us do actually something at work, rather than just playing H.O.R.S.E." Mike stands up and grabs the suit jacket that had been discarded on the backrest of the leather chair. He tosses it on his shoulders and heads towards the exit of Harvey's office.

"You're just getting out of here before I start prancing." Harvey shouts at him.

"What? I can't quite hear you." Mike motions at his ears.

"Let's just hope you're better at working than at shooting."

.

.

Stephen takes the elevator upwards to the offices he once worked in. The grey metal doors open to the same place he still held in his mind. His sight is greeted with the large wooden receptions' desk, those two little green plants at each end of the table. He had always wondered if they were fake or if someone actually took time to water them. The walls are still painted with that turquoise shade and the glass ones show the large conference rooms and offices. Who knows who got his. People are running down the hall, busy as ever and focused on their tasks. The phones ring as if there was no tomorrow and he definitely feels in his element. He has missed this. Real life. It still feels like it was yesterday, when he got up in his penthouse and got into work and kicked some asses. Nothing's changed, except everything is.

He approaches a brunette secretary, asking for Harvey Specter. While the employee types something at the computer, he catches a glimpse of red hair. He'd lie if he didn't say he hoped to bump into her at the firm, but, now that she's actually a few meters from him, he grows nervous. His heart acquires a few extra beats at the thought of talking to her again after the way they had last left each other. Maybe he should just drop everything, it had been a risky plan after all. But then she sees him and it's too late for that.

They stare at each other through the glass wall for a few seconds, but he can't quite read her. But maybe it's better this way, because the only thing she can think about right now is how to kill him. Did her message not go through? Just the other day she was yelling at him, ordering to not attempt to see her, and now he's at the firm?

She strolls furiously down the hallway to reach him and stops when he's near enough to hear what she whispers.

"Do I have to file a restraining order for you to understand-"

"Relax, Donna," He cuts her mid sentence. "The world doesn't revolve around you." He sounds way harsher than he meant. But she's treating him like shit, so he finds his tone appropriate after all.

"Then what on earth are you doing here?" She ponders, visibly annoyed. The enemy is in her territory and she fells oppressed.

"Even though our conversation is definitely not over," He starts. "I'm actually here for business." He declares.

"Business? We don't have any business with you." She asserts.

"As a matter of fact, you do." He starts opening his bag and grabs a bound file. "I'm representing Kyle Bishop." He declares.

"That's not possible. Pearson Specter Litt represents him." She had talked it through with him and they signed an engagement letter just a week ago.

"I'm afraid not. He's fired you and I stepped in." He explains, a little too smug for her liking.

"What?" She frowns, little wrinkles forming on her forehead.

"Uh-uh. He didn't appreciate how you didn't look out for his interests." Stephen hands her the document he was holding. "That's why we're suing you, for bad faith."

She is left speechless. The migraine that had started building the other day, suddenly creeping in. Her head throbs.

"I imagine you're still working for Harvey, so you can tell him I'll see him in court."

**It seems like Harvey and Stephen will have to meet again after all. And during trial!**

**To lift any of your doubts, Donna has referred to Stephen as Penelope's father just because she thought she could push him away without explaining all the situation with Harvey. We still don't know who's the real dad. (Well, except me of course ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Well well well, it wasn't my first intention to adapt the substance abuse issue to this story, but I knew I wanted Lily in this chapter and thought it could be a good combo. Hope it doesn't bother you, considering that I'm not going to develop it any further besides this chapter. IMPORTANT, I don't really know how it must be like to be in this kind of situation, but I do believe in rehab and second chances; the part where Donna says no one gets really through it it's just a thought she has in the spur of the moment. I hope no one gets offended by it :)**

**I don't know if anyone is still following this story but here you go!**

**G-**

Alex makes his way to the elevators, putting one foot in front of the other. He stops in front of the lift to find its sight blocked by a back-turned redhead.

She's deep down inside the reading of a document, so he pokes her briefly on the shoulder. She turns around and her eyes land on his. His soft chocolate ones meet a dire hazel ones.

"What?" She bites aggressively, completely out of place.

Alex holds up his finger and motions at the implant behind her. He's startled by her unjustified crankiness, having merely assisted to a flustered Donna. Even when she's mad or she yells at someone, she's always so put together. Now she just seems out of her game.

She just slides over him and goes away, without saying a word. The whole thing reeks of bad news, and he can't just let it go. The man decides to drift back to follow her silhouette towards the kitchen, instead of pursuing his plans and going downwards. They have company in the room, a couple of associates nursing themselves their coffees. They seem more than inclined to stay and chat for who knows how much time, so he approaches her side, facing the counter as she is doing, and whispers, "What's going on with you?"

She doesn't even turn, opening the cabinet in front of her and taking a mug out of it. The cold ceramic runs shivers all down her arms, and the geometric pattern makes her head spin. Maybe she's developing the flu. It wouldn't be the first time, giving all the germs Penelope brings home from all the public spaces she frequents. Or maybe it's just the physical reaction to the sleep deprivation, she might say. The sound of the two other voices in the room are not providing any comfort, she just wants to shut them off.

"Have I done something to you?" Alex adds, pushing on the thick indifference wall she's held up.

"Leave it." She just warns. Too much bitterness on her tone, he thinks.

The talk in the background doesn't subside, if not it only intensifies. One of members of the couple cracks a joke, eliciting a giggle from the other one. The acuteness pierces her head, and she wants to reach it so badly and rub away the tension that it's been building. And she does just that. Too bad the hand was occupied with the task of holding the cup, that crashes to the ground with a startling noise.

Alex instinctively jerks backwards, allowing the piece of furniture to land right at her feet. Donna feels the burning sensation of the material brushing her feet's skin, and the shards cutting her flesh. She swears at the contact and reaches involuntarily for her right calf, the action causing her to stumble. The senior partner watches it all happening too quickly, most of his responses dictated by instinct. When he catches her tripping with the corner of his eye, his first impulse is to reach out and snag her by the armpits. The younger duo, interrupted in their morning conviviality, witness to the scene, commenting with a gasp here and there. When Alex has finally placed Donna on one of the table's chairs, he turns to face them.

"What is it? Playtime? Don't you have a job to return to?" He yells at the unwanted guests than linger on their spots, the need is to get them out to put a clearly edgy Donna on ease. Despite their curiosity, they decide its better to leave the two partners alone. They quickly make their way out and, as soon as they're out of earshot, he speaks.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, the concern in his more than evident.

"Ouch." Donna complains as the pain increases. She puts a hand to cover her bruises, only to make the porcelain slice her palm too.

Alex is fast to step in, holding her hand and forcing her to make eye contact with him. He may not know Donna as well as the others, but he's not blind, and he's certain something is bothering her. Although, he doesn't consider appropriate making her open up just yet, so he decides to take care of her external wounds for now.

"You need to calm down and stop touching yourself. You're going to make it worse." He reasons gently. "I'm going to get a first aid kit and see what I can do, alright?"

She goes to open her mouth, wanting to say there's no need, that she's fine. She's not, and not just physically. He holds up a finger, though, and that tells her she's already lost the unborn argument. A bit of help won't hurt in any case, she thinks. She just nods.

He returns after just a few minutes, briefcase in hand and everything. He looks like a housecall doctor. Donna decides that suits him. She would let him cure her. And she will. She looks around, and finds the common space around the glass walls of the kitchen weirdly empty. It might have something to do with Alex, wanting to give her privacy. He's a good and thoughtful man.

He kneels down in front of where she's sitting and his eyes find hers in a silent permission to touch her. She gives it to him, as the lawyer starts taking off her shoes. He examines the situation and opens the kit with a click of the locks. He takes a pair of gloves and a tweezer. Starting taking out the mug's pieces, the feet are slowly and carefully free from any shrapnel. The same treatment is repeated for her hand and the injuries are soon disinfected and bandaged.

"You know, if this law thing doesn't work, you might as well get a job as a surgeon." She suggests to light up the darkness they've fallen into, having eyed his ministrations during all the time.

Alex chuckles at the comment, finding for the first time today something that reminds him of Donna. He's glad he can hear the humor in her voice again. "Well, Joy used to come home with plenty of wounds, so I had to get used to do things like this."

A thin smile finds its way to Donna's lips, who, for the first time too, feels a little more relaxed.

He throws the blood-soaked tissues in the trash bin by the door, the piercing smell of them finding her nostrils with a gross making its way out of her mouth. He takes a sit beside her and waits silently for her to take the lead.

The woman fidgets with her fingers for a rightful amount of time before motioning with her head at the file standing on the counter. He stands up to grab it and hand it to her, not expecting her to decline the offer and persuade him to open it and read the content. He's surprised by her willingness, but he's glad he's going to get a clearer vision of what's going on. Alex trails his eyes along the first few lines and it's enough for him to understand.

"Harvey is getting sued? That's what you're worried about?" He vocalizes frowning his brows.

Donna lowers her middle to gently slip one of her pumps on, raising her head just to give him the answer with a nod. The tough material against her sensible skin makes her hiss.

"Well, you know how many times this has happened before, and how many times is going to happen again, but Harvey always finds a way out." He reassures her, though he can't really figure out why she seems so affected this time.

"It's not about the lawsuit, it's more about the plaintiff."

Alex scans the document yet again, his eyes seeking a name. "Stephen…Huntley. And who the hell is this Stephen guy?" He asks, giving that he hadn't met the man back then, having arrived at the firm just recently.

Funny, Donna thinks. Who is Stephen in this kind of situation? She is not exactly able to tag him, except as a big fat pain in the ass. And maybe she's being selfish and childish, but his conduct doesn't surely help his case.

"Let's just say that he and Harvey don't get along well." Yeah, an euphemism. A nice way to put it, considering the way her husband beated him when they found out about his crimes; or, to be honest, when he saw how Donna was hurt.

"And I know that Harvey doesn't get along with tons of people, but doesn't make you crash Lisa's favourite mug to ground." Shit, that was Lisa's favourite. She definitely needs to get her a new one if she wants her to invite Penelope to play with her son on Thursday.

"Have you ever heard of the Hessington case?" She tastes the ground to understand how much she needs to fill him in.

"Are you talking about the Hessington Oil? Briefly, wasn't that like a decade ago?"

"Six years," She corrects. "Ava was charged with bribery and the murder of her opposers by Cameron Dennis. Harvey was her attorney. It was later revealed that Stephen Huntley, Edward Darby's right-hand was responsible for the murders and he was trying to set her up for it." She sees how her collegue's eyes pop out of the orbits.

"Damn it, you could have started with that!" He chokes out, resuming the string of speech.

"So now you understand why-"

"Why this is a dangerous situation? Yes, of course." He draws his own conclusions.

They stay in silence for a couple of seconds, him letting the information sink, her trying to cope with the throbbing of her head. She has decided against telling Alex the details of the nature of her and Stephen's past relationship, not deeming it necessary.

The lawyer sits down for what seems like the fifth time of the day, offering Donna the least he could give, his legal help. She declines, confident she can figure out her next move to try and talk Stephen out of it. This may be quite incoherent from her, telling the man to go fuck himself and then begging him to drop the lawsuit he's filed. Why would he even listen to her when she doesn't let him see his potential daughter? Except she doesn't see any other solution.

.

.

Lily Specter has made mistakes in her life. Back then, she had thought that a busy husband and two little kids were enough to justify them. They weren't. Her husband adored her and her sons were nothing but lobbing, even if a bit noisy.

Yet, she felt the need to escape the monotony of her life. Bringing random men home, when she was alone, provided some kind of distraction, making her feel young and wanted again. Some harmless fun wouldn't have hurt anyone, she used to believe. She realized at her own expense that was far from the truth, when her eldest son decided to cut her out of most of his adult life, denying her any possibility of making it right.

Nothing, for all those years, had proven itself strong enough to bend her son's will, when, out of the blue, he showed up and told her someone special in his life had encouraged him to reconcile with her. Harvey had then invited his girlfriend at dinner with them, so Lily had assumed she could have been the _special someone_, but a sheepish look was all it was needed to make her understand she had seen wrong.

Donna Paulsen had been a quite recurrent name in her and Marcus' conversations, and ,before that, even with Gordon. She couldn't quite point out what kind of relationship they had, but it wasn't her place to find out. Nonetheless, it seemed like an indissoluble link that made his son behave like she never thought possible. Therefore, when he called to tell her he was going to pay her a visit with _someone special_, Lily wasn't surprised to open the door to a certain redhead. What came unexpectedly tough, was the protuberance of Donna's belly, showing the presence of her future grandchild to the world. The toothy smile of her son told her he was the happiest he had ever been.

Donna has always proved herself a wonderful daughter-in-law. She would take a bullet for Harvey, and the fact she is good looking and conversation comes easily with her makes it even better. All her other innumerable qualities are just a bonus. She's the dream of any mother. But when she pays a surprise visit to the couple and her son invites her at dinner at their place, the person that comes home to them is a totally different one.

For how many times the key had turned into the lock without any luck, Harvey thought someone was trying to break in. Instead, it was Donna, who was finding opening the door extremely difficult, her headache growing every minute. When she finally succeeds, she loses balance and keels over the engraved numbers 206. She drags her self down the hallway, its quietness at loggerheads with the liveliness that comes from the dining room. When she turns to the left, the sudden meeting of the lights with her retinas makes her blink a few times. She's confused. So damn confused.

Penelope is sitting on one of the armchairs that frame the glass window in front of the kitchen. The space is animated by Harvey and his mother, who's stirring something in the pan. Vegetables if she has to guess. The smell of fresh food would normally awake appetite, rather than nausea, but it seems different this time. Lily is the one who notices her from the large square cut out of the cream-painted wall. The second the child hears her grandma calling her mother's name out, she scans the surroundings until she finds her and runs into her arms.

"Hey baby." Donna greets her daughter, caressing her strawberry blonde hair. She makes her way to the guest, as much as the little girl wrapped around her allows.

"Harvey, your mother is here and the first thing you do is put her to the stove?" She humors, the cuisine the last thing she thinks about.

She loves spending time with Lily, and she's happy when she's around Penelope too, but she would have loved nothing more than pass out into bed. It doesn't feel like the night to hold a conversation and be a good host.

"Nonsense, I popped out of nowhere, and Harvey insisted I sleep in you guest room, so the least I could do is prepare something to eat." She comments with a warm smile.

"Mommy let her do it, considering you never cook." Her niece adds innocently, before getting a slap on the arm by Donna.

The four of them proceed with their dinner. Work and school related questions are asked, a few laughs shared and generally they catch up with their lives. Donna doesn't share much, apart from a few nods and hums. That is until almost the end of the evening, when Lily grabs her purse, looking for something.

"I almost forgot my pill." She fills them in, rummaging in the bag. She takes out a far too familiar orange container. The inscription almost yelling at Donna.

"What is it? Mom are you sick?" Lily's worried son asks. He instantly regrets it, praying for a negative answer so Penelope doesn't have to listen.

"What? No, nothing like that. I've just been a little sluggish and unfocused lately, the doctor thought these could help me." The eldest woman says, taking a glass of water to swallow the medicine; amphetamines to be exact.

Donna feels her stomach twisting, nervousness creeping at the pit, as her hands get all sweaty. She starts breathing in and out through her nose. Maybe a little too fast. Ok, she's definitely hyperventilating. It's all too much and too sudden, fate taking advantage of her already weak position. She's in clear distress, but before it goes any further she excuses herself, claiming she's tired and she should be putting Penelope to bed.

About an hour later, when she feels the mattress dip under Harvey's weight, she fakes sleep, lying there with nerves to the edge. Until she can't take it anymore.

It was probably a matter of time anyway, she tells herself. No one gets really trough it. A person handles it and suffocates the need. But it's always there, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself it's not. You think you're stable, until you break. Now it's her turn. In a more philosophical reading, it would mean that some god up there has put her in front of a challenge, and she has lost. And perhaps it's just going to be a onetime thing. Maybe it won't change anything. It will be like nothing happened. But deep down she knows that it's never just a onetime thing, it's what you tell yourself to abolish the guilt and shame that's eating you alive.

Donna navigates herself to her apartment's spare room and sneaks in. How lame, she thinks. Breaking in while your mother-in-law is sleeping, like an addict looking for the drug. Thinking about it, it's exactly what she is. She reaches for the purse left on the table.

Out of nowhere, the lights are turned on, illuminating the crime scene. Lily is standing next to the switch, an impassible look in her eyes. How is that possible that she didn't notice? Donna's heart beats so quickly, she fears it might explode, and the grip on the plastic tube she was holding loosens, till the object hits the floor.

"Care to explain?" Lily says to the the other woman, who looks more like a kid caught with the hands in the jam.

"I...I was just..." She stumbles. There's no excuse, and she's well aware of it.

Donna shuts her mouth and gulps hard, tears follow fast and stream down her pale face. A desperate and hectic cry sets free all the anguishes that have been tormenting her. Lily soothes her on the spot they find on the ground after the redhead's knees give out, letting her vent till the last sob. The least she wanted to accomplish was to make her cry, but it was what it needed to be done.

When the breakdown has subsided, they sit gently on the couch, the guest offering her own host a glass of water. The redhead gladly accepts it and takes a gulp. Her nails begin to tap the cup, the ticking echoes in the large empty space.

"I'm an addict." Donna speaks up. "Was...I..." She tries to sugarcoat it, even if the notion is too hard to swallow.

"My family couldn't afford college because my father lost all of our money, but I wanted to study theater and drama at Yale so badly I was willing to do anything to make that happen. The only way I could get in was with a scholarship. So I..." Lily places a hand on her knee and squeezes it gently in encouragement. "I started taking amphetamines to increase my performances, at the point where I could no longer remember what day was and daily took four of them in a row." She spits out the last part.

That's it. That's her story. No reasons of force majeure, no deaths or calamities, no abandonment issues or illnesses, just a stupid nineteen year old who wanted to be an actress. And she even turned out to be a legal secretary.

The classical pity look that Lily throws at her makes her relive the NA meetings all over again. She feels ashamed like never in her life, thinking about how she promised herself she would never feel that way again; she failed. However, the gaze might be burning her skin, but she doesn't feel judged. That's something in Lily's manners that doesn't put her in the corner, she feels actually lighter. Neither of them says anything for a long time, so Donna senses the urgency of breaking the awkward silence.

"I'm so sorry that a plutocrat like me happened to you." She washes away the leftovers of her tears.

"To be honest, I'm glad I found one mistake in your person, I was starting to get worried you had none." Lily chuckles.

"Really? So you don't worry about the fact that the wife of your son and mother of your niece used to get high?" She jokes, still sniffing.

"No, if you haven't started again." The conversation shifts from playful to serious. Donna repositions herself so she can face the older woman better. It's the first time she has really looked in her eyes.

"I know that you have no reason to believe me, but I'm clean. I haven't taken anything since I was twenty-one. _Not a single time_." She spells the last words firmly. And Lily believes her. _Never trust the word of an addict_, they say. But for some reason, Lily does trust her. That doesn't mean she's going to get her off the hook so easily.

"I get it. What I don't get is why you were stealing my pills, then."

"Because I was about to go down that road, again. And now I realize I was about to throw everything I've accomplished away for a moment of weakness." She states like she means it. "I know that isn't an excuse, but I'm going through a really bad situation, and I haven't slept in days. I just thought that I might need a little help to stay awake, how foolish."

"What's wrong?" Lily cautiously asks. She doesn't want to push Donna, but, if she has to, she will. Donna ponders her options. She doesn't want Lily to have an even lower opinion of her, but what's the point in making up a story or be vague? She knows that woman has every right to get to the bottom of it, so it's better not to offer resistance.

"Recently I have crossed paths again with a guy I have been with and he has been tormenting me ever since because...because he found out he might be Penelope's dad." She comes clean.

"But Harvey..." Lily starts, not sure she has understood well.

"Harvey has been aware of it since day one. He claimed he wanted to be there every step of the way and wanted to raise Penelope as his own, even if it might haven't been."

Lily is speechless. Her mind wanders around, all the possible signs that could have shown the truth. She pictures that sweet baby girl and finds it impossible to believe that there's even the slightest possibility she's not Harvey's. She swears she can see him when she looks at her, but it's so much more than that. The bond they share it's beyond anything she's ever witnessed, the kind of bond that only fathers and daughters have.

Her mother's primal instinct kicks in and she thinks about how Harvey must have felt all this time. She has been informed of the side effects of her rowdy encounters, them resulting in Harvey's long term trust and commitment issues. The uncertainty of a matter like paternity can't have exactly tempered those.

She should do something. She should take his son's party when his vision is clearly clouded by love and show him that the kind of life he has settled for; the plan B, the easy way out in a rushed plan of a woman. Then why just the thought of her brain being able to formulate this kind of assertions makes her sick? Because that would mean erase the deep affection she feels for the little kid she's renowned as hers.

She should be mad at Donna, too. She should condemn her frivolity. She should blame her for putting her son in a similar position. She should want to not have ever met her. She should consider her profiteer and careless. Then why, as she looks into those emotional eyes, she feels nothing but fondness? That look tells her she's truly and deeply disappointed by herself. And Lily's most certainly not moved by pity. No, she's not an easy talk. But she's sure as hell moved by empathy. And right now she can feel the liability Donna's been holding. Perhaps that's what scares her the most. Because this woman, that she doesn't really know, is able to manovre her without even knowing it, without even trying or wanting to.

Deep down she knows that, given her history, she has no reason to be judge or jury.

"Well," Lily clears her throat. "I can't say it's an easy thing to digest or that I wouldn't have liked to know sooner."

Donna is about to speak again, when her mother-in-law stops her, holding her index up.

"But," She goes on. "I know that people find themselves in difficult situations, and if this is how you two chose to handle it, I support you." She says, with a steadiness that settles Donna down. "I love you and I love Penelope, but, for her sake, I really think you and Harvey should talk this through."

Donna nods her head, as her lips seal in a thin line. She's right. Of course she is. Never in a million she would have thought the cheater mother of her former boss would be the one to enlighten her. But again, she would have never thought she would marry Harvey and that Lily would have been such a wonderful person.

"And," She adds. "For your sake, I'll come with you to one of those NA meetings you love so much." A giggle escapes Donna. "Because right now you're not in the right frame of mind and you need to get back on your feet. Starting by sleeping, so go to bed right now." She playfully imposes, but the smile across her face hides a deep sense of understanding and faith.

It surely isn't ideal, being scolded to bed, for a woman of her age. And neither is going to those meetings again, admitting the failure, but it's for the greater good and Donna is eternally glad she has someone to watch her through this.

**C'mon hit that review button. I know you want to ;) but seriously, I'd really appreciate if you could give me your opinion. I hope to update soon with Stephen, Donna, Harvey and an elevator!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This update required longer than any other one. The fact is I've had a few weeks of hell because I was (am) studying for many tests. Anyways, I noticed I've been given more attention to Donna's POV instead of Harvey's, so I hope this chapter will make it better. I sincerely hope you don't find them too out of character, but this is a very particular setting and I'm trying to make them as realistic as I can. **

**I apologize if the legal dialogue doesn't really work considering the real law (which I've never studied), but I did some reading up and I think it makes at least a little bit of sense.**

**G-**

The coffee is exactly how she remembered it: burned. Really, just because you have to provide that beverage to the bunch of people who attend the meetings, doesn't mean it has to taste like tire.

Yet, Donna walks to the table to get a refill. Not because she's thirsty, but because she needs something to keep herself busy with. Drinking and fidgeting with the cup makes it less awkward to be between those walls again. Donna pours herself another three fingers. She's more cautious now, doesn't take more than a full cup a day. She sleeps more, takes it slow. She's healthy. She's okay. Everything's okay.

She tells her group she's confident she's fine now, so she won't show up again, unless she feels like she needs help. Walking out of the building, the cool air tickles her skin, so she wraps the lapels of her sweatshirt around herself.

She reaches the parking lot and starts looking for a white Audi. That's when she spots the car, but not the woman, that was supposed to be waiting for her. Harvey's leaning against the door, instead. His arms are folded across his chest, his right foot in front of his left. His head is tilted to the side and he's as handsome as ever. She would want nothing more than to throw herself in his arms, but she knows better. His posture, even though it appears to be relaxed, is on defense. It's not a casual encounter, and the look in his eyes says it all. Disappointment. She's not sure if he can't help it or if he wants her to notice, but it's written all across his face.

She feels this sense of unease, so her gaze finds the ground as she approaches him. She could wait for him to talk, however, she decides to take the lead.

"I thought Lily would come to pick me up."

"Too bad, it's me." He says with a flat tone. There she gets she's in trouble. If his whole appearance hadn't given it away, his voice would have. He's not shouting at her. It means he's not just pissed, he's hurt.

"Harvey..." She calls him, before he speaks again. And maybe that isn't a wrong shot, since he knows that when she names him like that, she doesn't really know how to continue.

"Why did I have to ask my mother where you were?" His coldness makes her eyes already prickly.

"Look-" Donna tries her best to come up with something, _anything_. But how is that possible if she can't even lift her gaze to meet his?

"And can you imagine my surprise when she gave me the address and I had to _force_ out of her the whole story of your addiction?" He hates what he's doing. He really does. Hates himself for putting her on a corner. But she has left him with no choice, except pushing till it hurts. Maybe this will take the truth out of her.

"Goddamnit Donna," He shouts. "We've know each other since always, we've been married for the half of a decade, and you didn't think of sharing that with me?"

"I thought that was in the past and that I wouldn't need to bring it up." She tries, but knows it's poor excuse.

"So you never wanted to tell me?" He takes a couple of steps forward, towering her. She seems so little and so vulnerable, he instantly regrets intimidating her. His expression softens, but she can't see it, since she can't bring herself to break the eye contact with the pavement.

"You know what? Ok, I can understand it, but when it became a current problem, why did you go to my mother instead of me?" The lesser the loudness of his tone, the greater the loudness of his feeling of betrayal. Every word drips with despair.

"I didn't, she caught me stealing her pills when-" She quickly defends herself, stopping too late when she realizes this may be new information compared to what he had. Plus, it got out so much worse than she intended.

"What?" He asks in disbelief. "So you're high?" Only pronouncing that sentence makes the whole situation even more absurd.

"No! She stopped me before I could take anything." She tightens the hold on her hoodie. The fabric seems to protect her more from the accusations, than from the cold.

"Donna, tell me the truth." He demands, leaving no room for any negotiation.

She rocks herself back and forth on the spot, pushing on her feet restlessly. Her nervousness doing nothing more than increasing his suspicion.

"I _am_ telling you the truth, Harvey." Even if her looks actually do remind of a junky: the oversized sweatshirt that covers almost all of her hands, the sneakers, the baggy pants and the pulled-up hairstyle. But the fact is, the choice of wardrobe came from not wanting to attend the meeting with any of her expensive dresses; it wasn't like there was a good chance to meet someone she knew anyways.

"I swear that if you're under drugs right now, I'm not letting you see Penelope." He menaces in the spur of the moment. It's a punch in the guts, for both of them. Harvey for getting to the bottom so pettily, Donna for realizing he's not trusting a word she's saying. Her jaw tenses in anticipation.

"Are you serious? You think that I'm so much of a train wreck that I would be a threat to my own daughter?" Her tone raises as hurt conveys in anger.

"Well, in any case I wouldn't know, since you're so distant!" He says, mirroring her. Rolling his eyes, he comes to realize that they have caught the attention of a bunch of people walking past them. The strangers eye the couple, not that subtly, and make comments under their breath.

"Come on, let's go home, where we can talk more privately." He convenes while tugging her arm in an attempt to end the scene they've made up.

"Yeah, right." She scoffs, retracing from his hold. "I'm not coming with you." She adds, before turning around.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I cannot stand being in a car with you right now. I'll take a cab." She waves off the gravity of the situation with her right hand, while the left one still holds her jacket.

"Are you for real?" He widens his eyes and his brows shoot dangerously high on his forehead. "Good Donna, very much of a grownup!" He yells at her shrieking silhouette as she walks away.

Harvey takes a minute to recompose himself. Shrugging off his stiffness and looking around sheepishly at the people who have witnessed to their little show, he climbs into the Audi and slams the door vehemently.

.

.

Later that day, Donna waits anxiously for Harvey to come back.

How come they have arrived here? How could have things changed so suddenly? One day they're perfectly content with their beautiful family, and the other they're at each other's throats. And it gets bigger. The circumstances bring to life problems they both believed were set in stone, well buried. But maybe they were just hidden under the rug.

For Harvey, the constant fear of betrayal and abandonment that used to haunt him took the better of his control once again; for Donna, the feeling of guilt and the desire of looking after her loved ones made her fall into terrible mistakes.

She knows what she did was wrong, but the factor didn't seem to change her mind. Truth is, she has felt so ashamed for her past, that bringing it up now of all the moments was just not an option. She thought that he had already too much on his plate to handle her crisis, in addition. But she would lie if she didn't admit she was afraid that the whole thing would have had an impact on his way of looking at her and on his idea of her capability as a mother. Motherhood has always been a thorny topic for her, but Harvey's encouragement has always helped her. She would hate to think about him changing his mind and reconsidering his judgment after all.

On the other hand, the thing Harvey has always craved for is honesty, and she has denied him that when he needed it the most. He hates being blindsided, and with the anxiety the thought of loosing Penelope provides, he could have really used some heads up. He just needs to be included, to be involved and to understand. She can't expect him to stay still without a clue. Right when they should stick together and face it as a front unit, she cuts him out of something so important on purpose. He doesn't give a shit about her drug addiction, he just wants to _know _and _be helpful. _Yet, even if he has made so much effort to open up, she has been the one to shut him down.

She hears the door being unlocked, footsteps approaching and, in a minute, he's right in front of her.

Harvey takes a moment to take her in: on the couch, propped on an elbow on the armrest, using her manicured fingertips to rub her temple, eyes closed. She opens them and her lips set in a thin line. She sits more up-tightly and exhales. She's ready to talk, he can tell.

"You dropped your mother at the station?" She asks.

The ghost of a sad smile appears on his face, as he nods.

"Penelope is sleeping?" He checks.

She follows his previous motions to confirm.

Harvey lets himself fall on the couch beside her, bringing both of his hands to his ocular orbits and applying just the right amount of pressure to relieve the beginning of his headache.

"What has happened to us?" They wonder out loud in unison.

Twin chuckles escape them, before they turn to look at each other. It takes just a few seconds and they burst out laughing. Tears are even forming at the corner of their eyes, their stomaches contracting and their bodies writhing. After several minutes, they have to catch their breaths, panting as they wave off the effects of having let all of their walls down. It's the first real moment of peace and sincere rest they have experienced in the last few weeks, and Harvey realizes how good it feels to enjoy the company of his wonderful wife once again. It feels right, being _them _again.

Donna straightens her head, previously thrown back because of the bustle of her movements, and looks into his eyes for the first time in what seems like forever. She's still half chuckling-half coughing, but the sentiment in Harvey's gaze soon makes her smile fall back into place.

"I know that saying I'm sorry won't change a thing. What I did was unfair and going to your mother and asking her to keep the secret even worse. But I'm going to make up for it. I'm going to prove to you that I'm still the woman you fell in love with." She says, placing her hand on top of his. He returns the affectionate gesture drawing silly patterns on her knuckles.

"You don't have to prove anything, Donna. As you love me despite all my faults and flaws, I love you with yours. There isn't a single thing I would change about you." He responds, when a thought occurs. "And what I said about Penelope-"

"I know you want to protect her, but I swear to you that I would never _ever _put her in danger." She's quick to reassure.

"Let me finish. What I said about Penelope, I didn't mean it. It just came out, but I never thought, not even for a second, that you could be less than a perfect mother to her."

That's not true, and they both know it; the redhead has been far from perfect sometimes, but she's sure as hell trying. However, for Harvey, who witnesses everyday at the love Donna shows their daughter, she deserves the nobel as her mother of the year. Donna accepts the comfortable words anyways, squeezing his hand.

"Just, no more secrets? Alright?" He seeks comfort in her shiny eyes, interlocking their fingers.

"Alright." She gives softly, the corners of her mouth curling up just slightly as she leans over to gently kiss him.

They promised each other the truth, so she might as well start now.

"Since we're talking about that, there's something I need to tell you."

Harvey almost regrets having asked that. He braces himself for the next punch in the guts, motioning her to keep going.

"At first I didn't want to because I thought it was better if I handled this on my own, only to protect you. But I need to trust you and let you fight our battles with me." She revolves around the subject, before, eventually, getting to the point. "The thing is, Stephen is suing you."

.

.

It had been an awfully exhausting fourteen days. The moment Harvey got something tangible in his hands, something he could actually do something about, he started fixing it. He dived deep into the dangerous waters of a conflict with Stephen, working through intermediaries, but knowing that they would eventually have to come face to face. He sensed Donna's fear, aware of the fact that he probably wouldn't control himself in a room with Stephen. His judgment could be clouded and the hate he felt towards the man could keep him from thinking straight. That's why he decided to accept, under his wife's advice, Alex's help, thinking that a cool head instead of his hot one could only bring benefits.

They had scheduled an appointment to meet in front of the judge on Thursday morning. It didn't go as well as the pair had thought. The opposing counsel presented a solid case: he claimed that Harvey had dealt with Bishop in bad faith, secretly looking out for a third party's interests - his older client Lindsey Stinson.

Harvey had organized his speech, although Alex was ready to intervene, in case the encounter got heated and Harvey lost his temper. However, what worried him and kept him up all the night was the idea of seeing Stephen again. He told himself it didn't matter, that he could keep his hard feelings at bay. All this mental preparation meant nothing the moment they walked into Judge Keith's room.

The presence of the man alone made the air thicker, more difficult to properly breathe. And Harvey recognized the feeling soon. It wasn't the same as when he had a panic attack, no this was different. He couldn't breathe because rage was brooding inside of him. The way Stephen's eyes landed on him the second they saw each other, how their handshake made his skin burn, the cocky grin - which he couldn't or didn't want to hide - that he threw him; every single thing that murder did drove him crazy. Every time he opened his mouth, he could only recall all the previous conversations they have had, all regarding their conflicting opinions or a certain redhead.

_"Let's talk about the bombshell outside your office."_

_"This isn't about me getting personal with Gianopolous, this is about me getting personal with Donna." "__I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."_

_"Where is Donna? "__I don't know. I was waiting for her myself." "__Wait somewhere else."_

_"I'm here to tell you that If I hear your name around my case again, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you."_

And he did. He punched that smug face and he would love nothing more than to do it all over again.

He doesn't really know if it's just the jealousy for his past relationship with Donna or his plausible right to be in Penelope's life that bothers him so much. It's possible; he believes it's more deep, though. Despite all of that, Stephen acts and thinks in a way that's just at odds with everything he predicts.

Monday came with the scheduled deposition in tow and Harvey had literally ordered an associate to keep Donna from pacing outside the conference room. She had insisted in being informed about the development of the case, but Harvey refused, suggesting they kept work outside their private life. She reluctantly agreed, but - Donna being Donna - put her foot down with her designed guardian by making a deal: she would stand near but not in front of the conference room, promising to behave well, in exchange of updates about the session. The poor young employee didn't know if he was more scared of Donna or Harvey, so he could do nothing rather than saying yes.

"So Harvey, are you with us?" Stephen catches the other man's attention, snapping his fingers.

"Yes, of course. Why don't you keep asking questions, instead of making us lose our time?" Harvey replies, faking a polite smile that looks more like a grimace.

"So, Miss Stinson," Stephen turns to the witness. "you run a real estate company, is that right?"

"Yes, it is."

"And Harvey Specter has been your lawyer for?" He wonders.

"Three years."

"Mr. Specter, for how long have you been the attorney of my client before he fired you?"

"Officially a couple of months." Harvey answers, not sure where he's going with this.

"Can we please move forward, or do we want to discuss numbers for much longer?" Alex steps in, bothered by the beating around the bush.

"Oh but numbers are important. You see, here I do believe it's much more likely that a lawyer wants to cover the interests of his older client, instead of the new one with whom he has had contrasts, all the more." Stephen states convinced.

"Is there a question?" Harvey asks.

"Miss Stinson, how is your company going well?"

"Depends on how you define _well._" The client begins to tense up.

"I'm going to ask this differently. Are you planning on filing for bankruptcy?"

The woman on Harvey's side grits her teeth and simply doesn't open her mouth. When he turns to look at her, he sees it clear as day. She doesn't answer because her answer would be _yes._

"Answer the question." Stephen presses her.

"Yes." She states visibly annoyed, crossing her legs.

Harvey mouths a _what _and directs his gaze to Alex, that finds just as clueless as him. Neither of them know how to move with this new piece of information - that makes the other man's case much more believable - and know they have to stop this deposition before they say something wrong.

"Mr. Specter, when you encouraged my client to invest in your client's company, did you tell him that?"

"Well...no, but-" Harvey answers instinctively, while Alex groans, knowing well that Stephen just fooled him into admitting something so setting up.

"So you have omitted such important information in the deal? Wanting to make Mr. Bishop invest in a company that is collapsing? Isn't this dealing in bad faith?" He asks, but not really expecting a reply.

He tries to talk, but as soon as his mouth opens, it closes again, interrupted by Stephen. "No further questions. I believe we've got all we need." He adds with a devilish grin plastered across his face.

While he stands up, buttons his vest and gathers his things, he dismisses Bishop, making his way out of the glass door as well.

Harvey remains sitting on his spot, ensure of what to do. How could he fall for that? How is it possible that him, _the best closer New York has ever seen, _has just been fooled like that? He stumbled like a newbie and couldn't handle a simple deposition.

Was it the fact that Stephen was leading it? Absolutely yes.

Should he do something about it? Probably not.

Does he want to? Absolutely yes.

He digs his nails into his thigh, closing his fists and creasing his Tom Ford suit pants in the process. He breathes in and out. He counts to three, even to ten. Still, his edginess, embarrassment, pride - or whatever you want to call it - takes over and brings him on his feet, chasing after Stephen till the elevators.

"All of that was bullshit, I had no idea Stinson was in bankruptcy." Harvey opens the conversation right away.

"Save it, I don't want to hear your excuses. You better prepare yourself next time, because we're going to court." Stephen replies, not even bothering looking at him, but stepping into the lift. Harvey knows what he's going to do is not the best decision, but he does it regardless. He climbs into the elevator with him.

The moment Donna had seen her ex lover exiting the room proudly, she knew it went wrong. But when she saw Harvey following him, she knew it went horribly wrong. Fearing he is very likely to make a scene at the office, she moves from her hiding spot behind a plant, much to the dislike of the associate that was supposed to watch her.

"Ma'am," He makes her sound so old. "Please stay over here, Mr. Specter-"

"Mr. Specter will be the least of your problems, if you don't let Mrs. Paulsen-Specter go _now._" She looks at him dead in the eyes, and he doesn't have it in him to make a stand.

With five big strides, she arrives just the second the doors of the lift are closing with the two men inside. She puts an arm in between the doors and has them open again for her to climb in.

Stephen scans her head to toes - he has wondered if she would eventually show up.

"Donna, what are you-"

"Harvey, Mike wants to see you, he said it's urgent." She makes up an excuse, lying to get him the furthest away from the situation he's getting into.

"Well, it's going to have to wait, go and tell him this." He barks, wanting her away as well. After that silent treatment a few moments prior, he has to make his argument without her distracting him.

"Harvey," She calls him, throwing him that kind of look that knows it's his weak spot. It's something between a plea and a warning.

A _ding _announces the elevator's doors closing, it excites a silent _shit_ out of her.

They have to make all the way down to the ground floor together.

Heavy silence fills the space, when it suddenly gets replaced by the deafening sound of the elevator screeching to a halt somewhere between the 23rd and 24th floor.

Their stomaches turn at the jolt, but they stand still, hoping for it to start descending again. But too many seconds go by, and it doesn't seem like something plausible.

They're stuck.

**I know that's a cliffhanger, but trust me if I tell you that it's better to split this part from the following one. I do hope to update more quickly, in the meantime, if you're so kind, let me know what you think :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm incredibly sorry for the longest update ever, but life really got in the way and I was hoping to finish and publish the chapter before having to travel. Yet, it wasn't possible so I had to wait till I got back (yesterday). There you go with the famous elevator scene that I'm not that happy with, but still hope exceed the expectations. In any case I haven't felt like someone really followed this story anymore. FUNFACT: just a couple of days ago I was in Greece and **_**really **_**got stuck in an elevator. **

**G- **

The lights go off and are replaced with a softer light blue ones when there's a second shock, this time stronger.

While Donna steadies herself gripping the metal bar behind her, the second sudden jerking makes Harvey loose his balance. He stumbles backwards, groping for something to hold onto. Unfortunately next to him there's Stephen, who he brings down with him in the fall.

Regardless landing right on top of him, none of them move for the first few seconds. Waiting a right amount of time to get pass the initial state of confusion, all three of them realize the position the two man have currently assumed.

Stephen lowers his chin to look better at Harvey, whose eyes are still wandering around to figure out what just happened. "Boy, I get that I'm attractive, but don't you think that jumping on me is a little inappropriate?" He raises both his brows and comments with a steady tone, the mockery in his words still obvious.

This seems to snap Harvey back to reality, and the realization of his proximity with the man makes him instantly pull his neck away to get as much space between their faces as possible. Sighing with disgust, he untangles himself from Stephen. He doesn't miss the chance to put extra pressure on his chest while standing up, the intentional assault eliciting a groan from the lawyer under him. Once up, Harvey smoothes down his suit jacket, eye siding the man at the same time. Stephen gets back on his feet as well, the weight of the body just lifted up from his resulting in a backache.

"Damn if you're heavy." He lets the note slip off his tongue, as he pulls the lapels of his vest to straighten his disheveled look.

Donna would have found the whole situation incredibly amusing if it wasn't for the fact that she couldn't stop shaking or that her sweaty hands were still holding onto the handle for dear life.

"You're lucky I didn't crush you completely." Harvey spits out annoyed, he doesn't know if more for the company, for the previous joke or for being trapped.

Something clicks inside of him, reminding him they're not alone, and his gaze instantly looks for Donna. He finds her frozen on the spot and walks to the other side of the elevator to put his hand on hers.

It must be said that in the past Stephen has surely believed in a deeper sentiment from Harvey towards his erstwhile lover. If he has to tell the truth, he has noticed an intense fervor in defending him on behalf of the other half too. But it's not really knowledge to him the full turn of the nature of their relationship. He's still at the boss-secretary type commitment rather than the husband-wife type of commitment. However, given the mayhem of the moment, Harvey's need of comforting Donna doesn't seem weird. After all, he's worried for her himself.

"Are you okay?" They ask in unison. British and american accent fusing in one sound as the question comes out from both of their mouths.

Donna's tense body softens a little as she relaxes under her husband's touch. " Yes," She replies to him, then directing her answer to Stephen, too. "Just a little shaken, but it's okay. Give me minute."

The concern for the woman spares the men the awkwardness brought by the fact of being in such a confined space. Even if staring at her won't occupy all of the time they'll spend together, doesn't mean that the little distraction isn't some kind of help. The lesser they have to speak to one another, the better.

When she recovers, her mind goes on autopilot and her body follows soon after. It's always like this with Donna, when there's a crisis, she doesn't stop. She begins to work like a machine, almost as she has a preset list of things to do in case of emergency and she goes through all the points systematically.

The first pragmatic approach? Pushing the emergency button and asking for help. Easy. The maintenance will probably rescue them in no time safely. Super easy. She was taught that ages ago. But then, she was ten when she was taught that and her parents just wanted her to take the elevator alone without being scared, and she hasn't exactly found herself in the position of finding out if that's true.

The Coo hits the call button.

"Admiral Elevator Company, may I help you?" A metallic voice exits the intercom.

"Yes, we're stuck between floors. Can you send someone?" She asks eager.

"Of course, we'll track you down and get you out safely. Give us a little bit of time." The notion bothers Donna, who was just starting to get used to the idea of having a way out. She pushes herself from the wall she was leaning against and inquires about more, "Wait, what you mean with a little bit of time?"

"Uhm, I really don't know miss. As soon as we can." The attendant says politely.

Harvey sees the look on Donna's face and knows too well what it means. She's not taking anything rather than _we're already coming for you _as an answer. Even when she herself knows that it's not up to them, she wants what she wants right away. He tries so coax her and convince her that is fine if they wait. But she has her mind set and will not hear anything from anybody.

"Let's try to be a little bit more specific, and don't try to lie to me because I'll know." She gets closer to the intercom and look at nothing in particular while she speaks.

"I sincerely don't know. It takes as long as it needs."

Stephen is sick of standing there doing nothing and wanders around to see if there's anything he can do. The first thing that comes to his mind is to try and pry the doors apart. He could go ahead and save the day, while Harvey would look like the foolish one. Seems like a decent plan to him. He discards his jacket, pulls his sleeves up and walks to the doors with such a confidence, like he's going to eradicate a tree barehanded.

In the meantime Donna is still arguing with the poor man on the other end of the line. "Well, I think that's what you tell everyone to keep them quiet and take as long as _you _need. Too bad that we don't have all day here." She increases, her tone bitter and waxy.

She huffs and the moment her head turns to the other side she notices Stephen in action. She jumps and smacks his arm away.

"Are you crazy? Do you want to get us killed?" She yells, eyes hooded and breath unsteady.

Stephen looks at her puzzled; after all he was just trying to help. As if reading his thoughts, she explains, "We're hanging in the middle of two floors, you put us in danger if you remove the only barrier between us and the void. That is if you manage to open the doors, which you won't."

Her words directed to the british man get to the company employee's ears, who believes they're aimed at him. Believing it's yet another client panicking because of being stuck, he tries to settle her down. "Ma'am calm down, it's going to be alright. Just breathe and relax, you're not going to fall." He coaxes, doing nothing more than increase her stress level.

She's about to get back to shouting at the intercom when Harvey takes hold of the call button, "Thank you for the availability, we'll be waiting for some news." He politely dismisses the man.

"I was handling it." Donna complies with her hands on her hips and the perfect shaped brows taking a wave shape. Harvey would have normally found her need to be in charge and pedantic behavior amusing, but not when she's just losing it. He understands that she's demanding, yet he would describe her more as hysteric right now.

"The only thing you were doing was making him want to leave us here." He clarifies, screw it if it upsets her more.

She sighs and prompts her elbow to lean against the wall, welcoming the cool metal. She puts her hand on her forehead, closing her eyes.

Stephen's gaze traces the pattern of her gesture. That's when he glimpses it. His eyelids slam a few times to make sure he's not seeing things. But it's still there, with its blinding refinement: that big, sparkly rock on her third finger, with a wedding band in tow.

Has she always worn it? How the hell has he failed to notice before? His interiors squirm as the unwelcome concept that Donna is a married woman takes over. His mind is assaulted by tons of questions. It doesn't make any sense. He knows that she has been kept him in the dark about his kinship with Penelope, but has she done the same with her husband? Or maybe she made him believe the baby was his? Or he knew the truth and stayed anyway? Yet, the timing is still upsetting. She got pregnant and then the following week had sex with another man? And soon after she told said man she was expecting and he got on board having a baby with basically a stranger? It's like he has all the pieces of the puzzle, but can't actually put them together.

"Since when are you married?" He practically shouts in total disbelief.

Her eyes snap open, the blood draining from her veins as she almost shivers for how exposed she feels. _Damn it. _Her eyes don't dare to look at him, afraid that he can catch her lie and talk her out of it - because she's all in the wrong eventually - instead, they find Harvey's. He's visibly confused and seeks some kind of explanation in her gaze. But he won't find any, because the fact is he hasn't exactly thought about what Stephen might know regarding them, too busy fearing the possible lost of his daughter. There's a silent plea for him to let her take the lead, and he gladly obliges, giving he doesn't have a clue about how to keep going.

"It's none of your business." Donna voices steadily.

Stephen feels blood rushing to his ears, almost fuming at her attempt of keeping him at arms length after all and once again. "None of my business?" He bites with a bitter stare. "You think it doesn't concern me? That some man is living under the same roof as my daughter?"

He doesn't think it through before arguing with her about that sensitive subject, ignoring the presence of the other man in the elevator, oblivious the he does indeed know what they're talking about.

"Does he even know she's mine? Or you didn't want to break your little bubble, so you decided to remain in what gave you certainty and lied?" He keeps inquiring.

It's all too much for Harvey. The other man's words too loud, so unconsciously directed at him that he feels the urge to step in. Despite the incredible level of awkwardness and despite feeling deeply implicated, he tries to stay quiet to not throw Donna off her game.

She flinches, her eyes wandering in search of Harvey for help. She's at a crossroad: to come clean or to not come clean? She had wanted to keep her husband out of this whole matter, protecting him from getting further involved. Yet, not specifying was one thing, but lying deliberately was another. The couple stands there with their mouths open - almost as if a fly would enter them - and attempts to get some words out.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, they don't have to, because Stephen gets to the truth before they can lead him to it. All the scattered pieces finally falling into place when he sees the golden band grazing Harvey's finger, as the man brings his left hand to bristle his hair. A wave of consciousness hits him hard. Everything is clearer now, including the fact that they have fooled him. Still, he wants to be sure.

"You-" He mumbles as a dry chuckle escapes his throat. "And you. You two..." He waves his index between them. Harvey and Donna's sheepish looks are enough to give him certainty. Before throwing both his hand into the air in frustration, he adds, "I can't believe I didn't see it right away. You must have laughed so hard behind my back. Poor Stephen. Doesn't have a clue."

Harvey has definitely had enough of hearing his complies and not saying a word; plus, the tightness of the space they're stuck in only raises his irritation.

"Look Stephen, now that all of the cards are on the table, we can be honest. It's a messed up situation and we all have our positions to preserve, but you need to suck it up and stop playing the victim."

"Oh really? And why's that? I'm the one who has been denied all of his rights."

At this point is Donna's turn to intervene, the gravity of his statement weighting over her. "No, let me be clear on one thing. You had and have no rights. You lost them the moment you made all those people killed and were imprisoned for it. You think you would have set a good example for her? Or give her stability?" She lets out in one breath.

"_I _am the father." He shouts, pointing repeatedly his finger to his own chest.

"No, you're not!" Harvey mirrors his tone, only a little higher, moved by Stephen's wrongful presumption and possessiveness.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"She's as much mine as yours." He states, while all Stephen's certainties crumble. He turns to Donna for further explanation.

She sniffles and sets her jaw before speaking, "Harvey and I got together the night after you went to prison. There was no way to tell when Penelope was conceived exactly. And after she was born we decided against a paternity test. I don't know who's her father." She admitted, unable to meet anyone's eyes. Every time she says it, it gets a little more uneasy and wrong.

Realizing fast he might not have any leverage, Stephen's disappointment turns into a need to protect himself attacking the woman in the elevator.

"Well, it seems like you waste no time at all Donna." He comments, gaining a heated reaction from Harvey.

"What did you just say to her? Come on, repeat if you have the balls!" He pushes against his flat chest forcefully, when Donna jumps in and blocks his ministrations putting herself in front of him.

"Leave it." She says. It could have been the perfect moment to run away, except there's no escape.

"I'm not letting you beat each other up. What's done is done, but whatever conversation we might have about this is not going to happen here and now."

"Oh you can be sure about that. It's going to be in a courtroom, in front of a judge, to get a goddamn paternity test done, like it should have been moons ago." The outcome of his threat results in a pit in both of Harvey and Donna's stomaches. They're just not ready to let go of the chance to have a happy end end. "And if it comes down to it, I'll be asking for Penelope's custody." Stephen adds.

It's their worst nightmare, what they've feared the most and, in some way, have been expecting the most. It would have been too easy to get away with it. Of course, it doesn't mean that the option of their family being torn apart is easier to digest.

Harvey's collar feels too tight and makes it impossible to breathe. The lightness in his head and the queasiness in his guts tells him he could be sick at any moment, but he's not going to give Stephen the satisfaction of seeing him at his worst. No, he hasn't finished fighting. He has just getting started.

"Yeah, you really believe that? We'll see what any sane judge will say in front of a felon just released that wants the sole custody of a child with a perfect and steady family." He voices with confidence like he's exposing an opening statement, ever the lawyer.

"You are murder, and maybe you haven't properly killed those people with your hands, but you walk around like it's not your fault, which makes it even more disgusting. That is why, even if she could really be yours, you would never deserve a single chance to be near _our_ wonderful daughter." Donna steps in, her hand finding its natural place in Harvey's as their hold gives her strength.

They're not wrong, Stephen thinks. He doesn't have any grounds to open a custody case. But he's moved by the relentless crave to be loved and to have someone to love, someone to live for, someone to come home to, someone he can take care of. Someone like a daughter. And he would like nothing more than to have her mother with him, but from what he's seeing, she's not going anywhere anytime soon. However, despite all she can say, he still feels something for her, and is willing to stand up for it.

For now the three of them just stand face to face, the built up tension making the air toxic.

With a mechanical noise, the lights are on again, illuminating the hostile faces that accompany their heated argument. The elevator starts descending again. This time landing safely at the next floor and the doors open to show off the scene to a very perplexed Louis, Alex and maintenance guy.

Even without the details, the image that greets them is charged with electricity, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out they were arguing, badly. Their whole body language and the fervor in their looks speak for themselves. The picture gets broken by Stephen, who decides to step out, not before whispering a very unpleasant _you'll be hearing from me._

Harvey needs space, now.

Donna follows him right away, not really keen to engage a conversation where she'd had to explain things to Alex and Louis and wanting, _needing _to be there for him.

She finds him pacing near the fire escape. She knew he wouldn't have taken the elevator again to get out of the firm.

"Hey..." She tries to make him feel her presence - both physically and mentally - by putting her hand on his shoulder, when he flinches at the contact. "Harvey please don't push me away. I need you exactly how you need me right now." She's hurt by his rejecting her comfort.

"Sorry, I just-" He apologizes, but his words are chocked. "I don't want him to take her away from me." He manages to get out in what could be described as a sob.

"Look at me." She demands, forcing him to make eye contact by taking his face between her hands. "I've never lied to you when it came to things like this and I'm not about to start now. This is one hell of a situation, but we're not going to worry about anything today."

He's about to interject when she speaks again, "I'm not saying we won't need to face it, but right now you're going to drop the case because it's obvious you can't keep handling it. And with Alex being your lawyer and fixing everything, we're going to head home, you're going to tuck in _your _daughter and read to her the little astronaut, because you both need it."

Harvey's still reluctant but nods anyway.

"And most importantly, you're going to remember that she's there, safe with you and not going anywhere. I promise you Harvey, he'll have to get over my dead body to have her." Maybe it's her velvet touch, or her vanilla smell, her soothing tone, or the incredible amount of love and trust he fells for her, but Harvey almost believes everything's going to be okay.

After all, reading Penelope the little astronaut story for the fiftieth time sounds like heaven to him.

**I'm so nervous about this, I really worked hard for this so I would appreciate if you could let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**So I'm not going to lie, I've felt pretty down lately for the lack of interest I've found towards my writing, but the response to my latest chapter made my heart grow three sizes. I really am so so grateful and it's amazing to hear your support. I hold onto that for dear life. Thank you. **

**G- **

_December 23rd, five years ago:_

_Donna manages to get home sooner than expected, despite the thick layer of snow covering the entire city and therefore the slowdown of the cab ride. _

_Somebody would have found strange going Christmas shopping right on the twenty-third of December, but being a new mom certainly doesn't give you much leisure. She has longed for her well deserved annual excursion to Macy's, also craving for some time away from the tiny human that sucks away all of her energies and milk whatsoever. _

_But keeping Penelope out of her mind was definitely harder than she thought. When she was about to pay for her latest purchase, the baby on the line right behind her started crying, and soon she was leaking all over her sweater. Her body didn't care it was another child screaming, it was ready to nurture an infant in need. Images of her sweet baby girl started floating in her head and she realized she had to get out soon and get occupied with something else. Otherwise she would have returned home to her daughter and then regretted having had a chance to get out and having missed it. So she bought herself a new sweater as a reward for her strength and as a change for her already soaked top. _

_Rachel had asked her if she wanted to have company, but she politely refused, needing to have some time only for herself. She wanted to hear just the sound of her voice and the jingles around the streets. And thinking that she doesn't even like jingles. She figures it's just better than hearing a constant wail. How is it possible that such a small person can yell so loud, she'll never understand._

_At half past seven, with several big red and green colored bags hanging on both arms, Donna manages to turn the key in the lock and open the door with a bump of her shoulder. She lets the packed gifts fall at her feet, weary with carrying them around. She closes the door behind her and moves aside a strand of red hair that has been stuck to her lipgloss, securing it behind her ear. She tosses the boxes in the corner and makes her way down the corridor._

_As she walks nearer the living room, her ears are grazed with soft music, though she can't quite pinpoint what song it is. She finally gets to the illuminated room and can't believe her own eyes. She stays rooted by the door jamb, mouth agape, scanning the surroundings._

_There's a big Christmas tree right in front of the entrance of the kitchen, little balls decorated with patterns of white and blue hanging on the branches. Soft lights adorn the walls, along with wreaths, lanterns and red ribbons. The air is filled with warmth and she swears she can feel the typical smell of the holidays. There's that mood she hasn't felt since she was a little girl, that sense of love, comfort and peace of mind that can't help but put you at ease._

_But nothing else compares with the scene she's witnessing to. Harvey's standing in the middle of the room with Penelope in arms, keeping her in place with his right hand hooked under her little legs, and offering his index with the left one, which she eagerly accepts and holds. They sway at the rhythm of Let It Snow, almost if waltzing; Penelope's head bouncing up and down as Harvey rocks her back and forth, her socked feet kicking in the air. Harvey sings along with Michael Bublé (has Harvey ever even sang before?) and does stupid faces to make the baby laugh. Both of their faces wear proudly twin smiles, the creases present in the corner of both their eyes, and Donna can't help but notice the similarities between them. Hopefully she's not just making it up to convince herself of something it's not. Right now she doesn't care, she's more than happy just watching father and daughter dancing together. _

_She stares at the warming sight that deploys under her eyes, admiring the beauty of the two most important people in her life, when they suddenly acknowledge her. _

"_Look, mommy's back!" Harvey says turning fully to look at her. He points a finger at her to encourage Penelope to do the same. Once she does, she burst into giggles and starts waving her little arms, in search of Donna's hold._

_She feels loved, and wanted, and special, and that's the best sensation in the world. She really has more. No, scratch that. She really has it all. She closes the distance between her and her husband, joining the picture and extending her own arms to take the baby, clasping and unclasping her fists while doing so. _

"_There you go. Hi sweetheart I've missed you so much." Donna coos, planting a kiss on the soft top of Penelope's head. For a newborn, she's already got her head full of orange-y hair and that's something her mother has always been incredibly proud of. As a matter of fact, she's been more excited to find out if her child would have been a redhead or not, than to find out if it was a boy or a girl. When the nurse first placed the baby in her arms, she immediately lifted the beanie Penelope was wearing to get a peek and check the hair color. Donna recognizes her signature in it. And Harvey doesn't mind either. You can never have too many redheads, he once said._

"_Harvey," She calls him with that tone he loves so much. "What's all this?" She asks, gesturing with her head at the decorations that fill the whole room._

"_This," He places an innocent kiss on her lips. "Is our first Christmas together, as a family." He replies with a wide grin that just can't get off his face._

"_Ohh, and you wanted it to be special." She fakes her best puppy eyes, while biting her lip to prevent a chuckle escaping from her._

"_Yes, make fun of me as much as you want, I know you love it too. And I know she won't remember any of this, but we're going to take thousands of pictures and show them to her when she'll be a teenager crying in her room, saying her parents have never done anything for her." He adds rolling his eyes, adding a hint of drama._

_He has already pictured all of their future together. It gives a warming sense of stability, certainty and safeness. If someone had told just a few months before that Harvey Specter would have turned from the Grinch into Santa Claus for the sake of his daughter and actually enjoyed all the christmas traditions he'd always hated, no one would have believed it. _

_The festivities make him think about his childhood, when his house was a place filled with love and unity, rather than infidelity and angst. The memory always bought him to distance himself from anything that could connect him with his past, too painful to remember. But now he can create new, happy memories with his own family. And there's no one he'd rather do this with than Donna._

"_But how did you manage to get this whole thing done in less than four hours?" She wonders in disbelief, the baby in her arms starts to get fussy for stopping her little dance._

"_I had a very valuable and useful assistant." Harvey refers to Penelope, his Cheshire Cat smile growing wider._

_She throws him that one look he knows too well. The one that says: I'm Donna, you can't fool me; head tilted to the side and eyebrows raised._

"_Rachel, Mike and Louis might have come over to help." He admits defeated. "Surprise!" He claps his hands together._

_She smiles at his childishness, and believes that it really can't get any better than this. _

_Donna kisses him fully, bringing her hand to his cheek and sandwiching Penelope between the two of them._

"_Merry Christmas, Harvey. I love you." She whispers against his lips._

"_Merry Christmas, Donna." He does the same. "I love you more."_

_._

_._

"You guys, I'm home!" Donna shouts from the bottom of the strangely warm hallway. She supposes Harvey has finally called the plumber to fix the radiator.

She hangs her coat at the entrance and her ears are met by an engaging tune coming from what she supposes to be the kitchen. She wonders what her other two roommates can possibly do there, since they've already settled for going out to dinner.

Her body proceeds with small strides, drawn to the music, till she reaches the threshold of the room. The counter is a mess, dirty bowls, whips and spoons, a stripe of pastry trails a pattern from the surface to the glass of the oven. The smell suggests they've been making cookies - with coconut to be exact. Something familiar tingles in her and it's like a déjà vu: suddenly, she's back to five years before, when she came home to find Harvey and Penelope dancing together.

The song is the same one, the house is the same one and the feeling of peace and gratefulness is nothing less.

Except this time Penelope's not a baby anymore and she can stand up on herself. Actually, she's hopped on Harvey's feet, letting his big stature guide her moves; she follows his lead, with blind trust, total safeness, total ease. Obviously, it doesn't apply only in this particular case. She surrenders to him completely because she knows that he doesn't let her down, and that wherever he drives her, it's the best she can get.

For someone that has always claimed loyalty is a two way street, Harvey has surely as hell been lucky in having a daughter that hangs from his lips. Yet, not without cause, but because he's earned it. Earned being the one she goes to when she has a question, when she has problem or when she simply feels like it.

But having such a significant role requires a patience and a sensibility that he has acquired over time. His slightly greyer hair the visible proof. During these past few years he has had to learn how to be responsible for his and another human's life, while being a good partner and supporting Donna. As someone who insisted on not being the one you go to when you need a hug or husband material, he has surely provided a top notch example. And he taught just as much as he learned, Penelope being the instrument to make him grow and raise herself.

_Oh the weather outside is frightful  
But the fire is so delightful  
Since we've no place to go  
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_

Donna's eyes water when she thinks about how far they've come.

Before, they pretended and run away from what they could have at the thought of losing one another, but not recognizing that, they eventually were. Before, they parted ways, but wanted to be the one to go home to. Before, when the other needed comfort, they ached to be that person that was allowed to care and to be there in _that _way. Before, when they unsure of what the future held for them, they just wanted to be included in each other's life project, and not just regarding the firm. Before, they swallowed with heavy heart the sad awareness of knowing where their boundaries were and where their roles in each other's lives and liberty ended. In a nutshell, they _needed _to be that _more_ they wanted but didn't dare to accept.

Now, she gets to witness to them aging together, collecting losses and wins, but knowing that they will be always coming home together. After all, what the song says is true. She's got no other place to go, because what makes the house a home it's them. She doesn't take for granted what she has, and sometimes still finds it incredible that she's finally put a ring on it. She, Donna Paulsen, lives a mundane - yet incredible - life with Harvey Specter. She doesn't just see him at work, powerful in his element, but also vulnerable, when everybody's gone and he can put off his armor. She gets to see him shave and cook and choose the film they're going to watch, and this alone makes her appreciate how satisfactory can be sharing everyday with the love of your life.

"Mama!" The child's eyes lit up when she notices the woman standing there, watching them. Then, her face falls, "Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

Donna's snapped back to reality when her little red head - ever her mother's daughter - questions the few tears that are straining her cheeks. She's quick to brush them away, "No baby, I'm not sad. These are very happy tears. It just makes me emotional looking at my wonderful family." And she'll be damned if Stephen Huntley will be the one to jeopardize their serenity.

"Come dance with us!" Harvey invites her with a gesture of his hand, making room for all of them in the little bubble that it's been created.

"You guys realize that it's not quite Christmas time yet, right?" She giggles as she takes his hand and Harvey swirls her around.

"It's always time for Michael Bublé." He says, crushing her against him, her palms splayed across his clothed chest. Donna knows what her husband's doing. He's trying to spend as much time as he can with Penelope, carving every sensation, every word in his mind. He doesn't want to waste another second to create good memories and try to secure them in his head, in case something went wrong.

"And for having cookies as dinner, it seems." She narrows her eyes, using humor as the weapon to cover her fluster.

"Of course!" Penelope's head shoots from between her parents' legs, looking up at them, wanting to be part of the conversation.

It often happens, her parents whispering things or throwing understandings glances to one another. Sometimes, it also happens that they communicate without words. It upsets the kid, who feels like they have their little secrets or their special club, talking about their private stuff and not including her.

Her parents obviously noticed that, but decided against explaining to her that it's just their way of relating with each other, letting her understand that herself with time, and just enjoying being the object of her attention and jealousness. It's sweet.

"You are not allowed to have a say in this. You're too biased!" Donna reminds her with sarcasm filling her tone.

"But, but daddy said I behaved so well, that this could," Her mouth slams a couple of times before formulating the rest of the long sentence. "Could be seen a one of my early gifts." Penelope has begun to speak pretty early on, using a rather large amount of words and being able to express herself well enough. Harvey tracks it down to Donna's tilt to voice her feelings and what she claims; Donna, on the other hand, tracks it down to Harvey's constant need of stating the facts and righteousness. After all, they don't know if it's a good or a bad thing that the child has been raised from such strong characters.

"Isn't that right, daddy?" She asks, looking up at him with those expectant hazel eyes. She may be five, but she knows how to play her cards well. Her father can't say no to those eyes.

"Yeah, is that right, _daddy_?" Donna throws back at him mockingly, tilting her head and raising her brows.

"_Daddy _says we can make an exception for tonight." He welcomes the challenge, knowing well that Donna is eventually going to kill him for over-sugar excitement they'll have to face later. Or most likely, she's going to delegate to him the apparently impossible mission of putting Penelope to sleep.

Donna had seen this coming a mile away. When it's them against her, her chances to win are close to zero. She doesn't mind though, because she sees it as the way her daughter ponders and decides who is the easiest one to cave, recognizing her mother as the most stern, and subsequently siding with Harvey.

"Fine," She pretends to be defeated. "Let's get this party started!" She cheers, while supporting herself with a hand on Harvey's shoulder to cautiously step out of her heels. He loves this kind of Donna, the one who tosses her Jimmy Choo aside and sets her wild locks free to have a careless dance with her daughter. It gives him a boost of energy.

Once the song ends, the shuffle of the Spotify's playlist replaces it with a new track. Donna scoops Penelope up and starts swaying, soon finding a good rhythm. Just as Harvey's about to join them and loosen up with his dance moves, a familiar ringtone matches the notes that are currently playing from the computer.

Harvey throws Donna an apologetic look, at which she just shrugs and encourages him to answer the incoming call. Too caught up in the moment, she shifts her attention to the toddler in her arms again, while Harvey hits the green button on his screen.

"Alex, what is it?" Harvey says, bringing the phone to one ear and plugging the other with his index, in order to hear better.

"Harvey, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute?" The man asks on the other end of the line. His tone placid and steady, lacking of worry or rush. He takes it as a good sign. But still, why would he call at this time?

"Of course, I'm all ears." He notifies, walking away from the chaos of the kitchen, in need of some privacy. "Did something happen?" He can't help but wonder, the knowledge of him handling the case against Stephen now letting a couple of suspects rise to the surface. Maybe that's the topic of the conversation.

"Yes, but something good. We did it. The whole lawsuit is over." He announces with a hint of proudness marking his words.

Harvey lets out a sigh of relief, thanking god for being surrounded by trustworthy people, because - even the best closer in New York City - needs a little help from time to time.

"How did you do it?" He questions happily, reaching his home office and turning the light on.

"You don't need to stress with the details; You and I - because we both know you'll have something to criticize concerning my strategy." Alex chuckles. "I'll just say, I thought W.W.H.D. ?"

Harvey grins at the mention, "Did Mike taught you that shit?"

"He certainly did."

"So you closed him? Specter treatment?" He takes a sit on his recliner, propping his feet on the desk.

"It was like you were there." He states, knowing to be making his friend happy.

"Thank you, Alex. I owe you one." He's sincerely grateful for him lightening his load of at least one thing.

"Nonsense. But if you're really thankful, do me a favor and please try to not bump into Stephen tomorrow morning, he's coming down to the firm to sign the settlement." The other lawyer pleads, knowing that they have history.

The thought of that snake setting a foot in his offices one more time makes him sick, but he has to swallow it for the greater good one last time.

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try." He concedes, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"That's all I'm asking."

.

.

_The next morning, Pearson Specter Litt lobby:_

_A generous hook lands right on Stephen's jaw, slamming him against the wall. Harvey's fist travels with such speed, he feels the air grazing his knuckles. It feels damn good to be pummeling that son of a bitch again. He hears voices, even feels hands, trying to push him away from his foe, but he's blinded by rage. Truth is, he doesn't want to stop, but frankly, he probably couldn't if he wanted to. The tension built up during all these weeks finds its culmination in the mad aggressiveness towards Stephen, who is basically turned into a punchball. _

_Harvey pulls him up by the already blood strained collar to just knock him to the ground shortly after. Not even the grunts and groans the man under him emits can deconcentrate him from placing a few hard kicks. Pure, deranged, irrational and frantic tantrum takes over, red engulfing his ability of thinking straight. _

_He could address his fury to what Stephen last said of Donna, but deep down he knows that it's helpless desperation. His whole world could have just changed. _

_It takes exactly two men to finally lift him from Stephen. He resists, but eventually has to give in. In the spur of the moment, while his eyes wander around the room, his gaze locks with Donna, who is standing in a corner, petrified. Never - in all the years she known him - she had seen such a violence. It scares her a little bit. Harvey's vision might be clouded, but he sees it clear as the blue sky: disappointment._

"_Harvey, that's enough! Are you insane?" Mike shouts at him. And he is. Because he may have found out that Penelope isn't his after all. And he had really tried to not get his hopes up, but, at the end, he ended in believing that he could be her biological dad. And the sore reality of what may be the truth is one thing, but that ass ogling in front of his face is another. _

_Maybe he should have stayed away from Stephen as Alex had suggested him to._

**I know that you'll probably hate me but I wanted to update so badly I'm going to leave you with this cliffhanger. Don't worry, the last part is just a few lines of the actual scene I'm going to post in (I hope) a little time. It'll all be explained, in the meantime, what do you think happened? **


	8. Chapter 8

**In this chapter it's written that Harvey has had panic attacks before and I know that since Donna's never worked for Louis in this story it shouldn't be like this, but let's close an eye about this little detail ;) I'm already sorry for some mistakes you'll find down the road. (I've been in a bit of a hurry) **

**As usual, enjoy!**

**G-**

_I'm gonna beat the shit out of you._

Harvey has once told Stephen, even if he had meant it as a way of saying. He has never been a guy to use his hands, his attitude and capability of manipulating people with words - ever the lawyer - have always assured him a win in the arguments he has faced. But he can, if he wants to, beat the shit out of somebody. He has been boxing for several years now, and knows that his fists could be pretty useful.

Yes, that time - when the door held the name _Darby _instead of _Litt_ \- he hadn't meant it for real. But there's nothing figurative in his words this time. He knows that Stephen is somewhere around the firm, probably in Alex's office or in one of the conference rooms. He has every intention of not finding him, not trusting himself with the man alone after what happened in the elevator. What he hasn't envisaged, though, is the possibility of Stephen finding him.

Harvey's walking down the firm's lobby, lost in the sound his shoes make at the contact with the wooden floor. He's actually relaxed for the very first time in what seems like forever - clearly clueless of what's coming for him.

"Harvey." His name cuts the silence. The sound of it has never been brought so much displeasure. He turns out of instinct, and his eyes are met with the thin figure that makes him recoil.

"I found it strange that I haven't seen you at the signing. Where were you?" Stephen inquires while getting closer, a faux perplexity adorning his features.

"Alex was more than capable of handling that himself, and I had something else to do." Harvey shrugs, putting his hands deep into his suits pants' pockets. He's clearly trying to assume a modicum snugness, but still failing miserably at it.

"Oh, and here I thought you were avoiding me because of our discussion." Stephen doesn't even try to faint his insinuations with an enough thick layer of sarcasm. The almost direct hint washes Harvey over, although he tries not to dip his toes into the turbulent waters. That's why he chuckles while getting ready to throw back a witty answer.

"Because I find you more clever than to believe that I need to use work to bring the topic up." He's not playing subtle, and Harvey knows it. He wants to get straight to the point without giving him the chance to disentangle himself from the impending.

"And yet, you always manage to use this exact place to mention it." His gaze is growing more and more piercing. He shakes his head and his lips mingle together in a flat line.

The couple is almost losing any contact with the previous sporadic jabs and the conversation gradually fails any irony.

Stephen, gesturing at the world outside of those walls, proposes casually, "Then why don't you call Donna and tell her to meet us outside, so we can go somewhere else and finally talk about it." Over his dead body, Harvey thinks. In that moment he drops any intentions he could have to persist with the playful pattern.

"I have to admit, you really are relentless. Let me set the record straight," He almost closes the gap between them. The right hand comes out of his pocket and aims at Stephen's chest. "You are neither wanted, nor needed into _my _family. I'm Penelope's dad and that's not going to change, so do us all a favor and get the hell out of our faces."

"See, you say it's all to protect that poor little girl from the bad guy, but it really is out selfishness. You are the bad guy who has been lucky enough and is now denying a daughter the possibility of knowing the one that is related to her by blood." He states fully convinced of his reasons. Maybe it has to be said that Stephen really believes he's being the good guy, and he cannot find a single reason it shouldn't look like that. And the more Harvey Specter stands up as the right parent, the more the thought wins over.

"How presumptuous of you to think you're that fertile to _have _to be her father." Harvey puts particular emphasis on _have._

"Mh, it's not just a presumption." His eyes frantic. He looks like when he was about to deliver a coaxing speech, trying to get a client whatever shit he wanted to sell. Harvey doesn't want any of it, and believes he's enjoying himself way too much.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about odds. You see, I recently got to think about a particular day, six years ago. Remember when you called Donna, during a lunch break, because you obviously couldn't stay two seconds on your own? She told you she had an appointment with the _dentist_, but she actually had an appointment with _me_." This shouldn't be news to him, he's not a fool, and knows they had spent time together outside of the walls of the firm. But the thought of Donna having a conversation with him, who was completely clueless that she was with that man in the meantime, makes his interns squirm. Still, he pretends to be unmoved by his confession, when Stephen knows he's pushing just the right buttons.

"This is a very good story. Can we-"

"While she was getting dressed again," Harvey cringes as soon as those words leave his mouth. He's not delusional, he's aware that she has been with other men before. Of course, Donna is an attractive woman and she had specifically told him by then that she had slept with Stephen. It doesn't make it any easier though, when the ulterior acknowledgement is thrown into his face. How he had managed to fake it didn't bother him when it was happening right under his nose, he'll never know. "She noticed she had forgotten to take her birth-control. For _days_. And you can imagine how much you can do in _days_." As if being told that they had had an intense sex life wasn't enough, he has to hear that they didn't even use protections.

"And doing some calculations, you would have had to knock her up in basically no time. So tell me, did you forget the glove? Or did she forget the pill with you too?" No, she didn't. He specifically remembers having asked her. He couldn't bring himself to believe how it was possible that she had gotten pregnant, but she had told him that precautions don't always work. Yet, she has failed on telling him about this little detail.

Harvey's silence is enough of an answer and encourages Stephen to continue. "Then what are the odds you managed to knock her up, instead of me?" He concludes satisfied. "You know, she probably jumped at your skin because she was alone and hormonal. Because of _my child_." The conversation has became way too uncomfortable, but awkwardness isn't the only feeling that's settling in. Rage.

It's no secret that Harvey has been pissed before, but the kind of anger that is building right now is a whole another matter. He's only felt this sense of wrath a handful times, mainly because of his being protective over the small entourage of the ones he really cares about. It could even be said that it scares him a little, because it makes him reach the point where he no longer has control over his instinct.

"Stop it." Harvey's jaw clenches.

"Why because you know I'm right?" He teases heavily.

"Shut your mouth. Or I'll make you." He threatens, the fingers of his hand flinching in anticipation.

"Or maybe would you prefer me to say that your wife is a slut who fucks her former boss, three seconds after she was fucking m-" He doesn't even get to finish that sentence that Harvey's emotions take over.

He doesn't give him the time to metabolize the first punch, instead he unleashes with all the force he has. A generous hook lands right on Stephen's jaw, slamming him against the wall. Harvey's fist travels with such speed, he feels the air grazing his knuckles. It feels damn good to be pummeling that son of a bitch again. He hears voices, even feels hands, trying to push him away from his foe, but he's blinded by rage. Truth is, he doesn't want to stop, but frankly, he probably couldn't if he wanted to. The tension built up during all these weeks finds its culmination in the mad aggressiveness towards Stephen, who is basically turned into a punchball.

Harvey pulls him up by the already blood strained collar to just knock him to the ground shortly after. Not even the grunts and groans the man under him emits can deconcentrate him from placing a few hard kicks. Pure, deranged, irrational and frantic tantrum takes over, red engulfing his ability of thinking straight.

He could address his fury to what Stephen last said of Donna, but deep down he knows that it's helpless desperation. His whole world could have just changed.

It takes exactly two men to finally lift him from Stephen. He resists, but eventually has to give in. In the spur of the moment, while his eyes wander around the room, his gaze locks with Donna, who is standing in a corner, petrified. Never - in all the years she known him - she had seen such a violence. It scares her a little bit. Harvey's vision might be clouded, but he sees it clear as the blue sky: disappointment.

"Harvey, that's enough! Are you insane?" Mike shouts at him. And he is. Because he may have found out that Penelope isn't his after all. And he had really tried to not get his hopes up, but, at the end, he has ended in believing that he could really be her biological dad. And the sore reality of what may be the truth is one thing, but that ass ogling in front of his face is another.

Maybe he should have stayed away from Stephen as Alex had suggested him to. It's too late for that.

A few hands try to get Stephen up, but pride has him refuse their help. Instead of reaching for the much needed support, he slaps it away. Once he manages to stand on his feet, his digit slides on his bleeding lip in one fluid motion, swiping it clean. His gaze sets on Harvey's dark one. The lawyer makes his way to him between the crowd of people that have come to attend the show. They find it certainly bizzarre. It is as if you manage to escape your executioner and then go to him with a gun in your hand.

The nearer he gets, the more Harvey can make out his satisfied smirk. Why the hell is he smirking?

His hot breath comes near his ear and Harvey has to fight himself hard from not strangling his throat. He whispers something while the stranger's prying ears stand on attention.

"You see, Harvey, I didn't have any valid grounds to ask for Penelope's custody, but you just gave me the perfect one. We have a room full of witnesses," Harvey looks around. "That will testify that you have beaten up a man out of nowhere."

At first, Stephen's goal wasn't to set Harvey up. He really wanted to just talk, but when he realized where the conversation was heading to, he was quick to change his plan. He was willing to take a few punches from him for whatever would repay him later.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're going to sit down with me and civilly reach some kind of compromise, or I'm going to press charges for assault. Let's see how long it would take for Donna to leave you and for Penelope to be mine."

And with that he's gone.

Harvey feels his breath hitch, he tries so desperately to let the air reach his lungs, but it gets stuck somewhere before them. Cold sweat covers his entire front and shivers run down his arms and spine. He knows what is coming, and he's never been more afraid in his entire life to have another one again.

Mike recognizes the signals, having witnessed to it before, so he navigates Harvey into the bathroom as fast as he can. A flash in his gaze makes Donna understand what's going on too, but she's rooted to her spot. She's not sure she would be able to offer much help if she saw Harvey that broken. But the thought of not being there for him also eats her alive. She's so helpless.

In the meantime, Harvey is about to get sick in the ceramic furniture of the restroom, but for some reason the state of confusion is so much more overwhelming. It's like being wrapped in the q-tip: he's completely disconnected.

Adrenaline from the past confrontation still rushes through his veins, making him feel alive and making him feel much more than he would like too. It interferes with all the opposite and intense sensations, bringing him to a state of severe physical and emotional pain. It poisons him. All that Mike tries to accomplish to make him feel better, expires a few moments later.

The door slams open and a female figure walks in. Harvey can't sense her presence, but Mike acknowledges her with a terrified look when she reaches the third stool.

"He's having a panic attack, isn't he?" She asks to the junior partner currently bent down next to her husband.

If just the sight of him in this state makes her feel ill herself, her concern and her urge to be by his side no matter what wins over. She couldn't just stand there drowning in her cowardice, knowing that deep down he _needed _her. She hasn't failed once regarding this particular subject.

She goes on autopilot, instinctively taking Mike's place and placing a hand on Harvey's back. The motion straddles him a little, who notices her presence for the first time. She feels bad for having just provided ulterior pain, rather than comfort. In fact, it makes his heart beat dangerously faster to find her eyes again, the ones that had been so disappointed in him just a few minutes before. It's all his fault.

"Harvey," She takes his face between her hands to force eye contact. "Harvey, look at me. You don't have a choice, just look at me. Please." At the plead, he does just that.

"I'm here. Do you hear me? I'm _here. _I'm not going anywhere and I know that it doesn't seem like it, but it's going to be okay. You have to trust me." She's giving all the clichés of the case, yet, she carries them with such confidence and empathy, that they become all he needs to hear.

"Do it for me. Please, I need you to breathe. Harvey, please." And at her further _please_, he surrenders, setting with difficulty a breathing pattern. He doesn't even know how it is possible, but the world slowly seems less hovering over him.

The dull ache of his chest begins to dampen with every whispered _I love you _of hers, till she just holds him tight on the floor after the most exhausting experience of his life.

.

.

Harvey was reluctant about going home, afraid of not being able to hide his emotional turmoil from Penelope. No matter how hard Donna tried to convince him that was okay to show her that daddy was a little off, he was afraid that it would affect her. So she had proposed to let Mike and Rachel babysit her, or to send her at one of her friends' house for a sleepover, but he didn't feel like kicking his daughter out just because he couldn't deal with his panic attacks.

So instead of pushing her away, Donna had decided to let the little girl's contagious happiness cheer him up. Like in those TV programs where they rent a bunch of puppies for the ones who suffer from depression. Providing some kind of therapy was probably the best idea.

Donna watches as he's currently splayed on the couch with Penelope, fast asleep on her father's chest, and decides it's probably the best occasion they have to decide where they stand regarding Stephen's offer.

Of course, it was the first thing he had let her on about when he got the use of his voice back, as they where heading home from the firm.

She approaches him with a cup of steamy dark tea, handing it to him once she reaches the edge of the couch. He slowly cracks one eye open, spotting the mug and - awakening the stiff arm that was being crushed by Penelope - he reaches for it. He sniffs the hot liquid and grimaces, "Tea? Really? I've never drank tea in my whole life." He complains in a whisper.

She rolls her eyes, "Did you think I would let you have coffee?"

He just shrugs, but takes a sip regardless, keeping his free hand busy with rubbing the child's back.

Donna stares into her own drink, then cautiously asks, "What are we going to do?"

When Harvey shifts uncomfortably at the mention, she senses the need of explaining herself.

"Look I don't want to talk about it either, but the sooner we decide, the better. It's no use to ignore the problem." She puts a hand on her chest, as if to say she speaks from the bottom of her heart.

Harvey bites his lip and nods, then looks at the toddler on top of him that breathes heavily in and out, worn off by her day. Her little cheeks are red, and match the copper locks that fall in front of her button nose. Donna's button nose. He could look at her for hours. It's been like that from the day she was born, when he had been up all through night just watching as she closed her little palm around his index.

In that moment he figures out what he really wants: anything Stephen will allow him, even if it's seeing her for a couple of minutes every month - just as long as he doesn't lose her completely. He's too aware of what he would be missing. He's also aware of the fact that if the other man won the custody, Donna would probably be able to see her under some agreement, but without him. God knows if he would be sitting in a cell by then.

"I can't risk her." He finally says with a sigh. "And if cutting some kind of deal with Stephen can spare us going to court and expose you and her to the possibility of losing, then so be it." He doesn't ask her if she's okay with the decision, not because he doesn't want her opinion, but because he knows that she would let him have the final say. At the end, who's really at stake it's him.

Deep down, Donna knows that he would have chosen to take that offer, because that's what she would have done too. They might have different points of view, but they're still her parents. Both of them.

"My thoughts exactly." She reassures him with a faint smile.

.

.

Stephen is finally the one who gets to call the shots, and it feels like the best sensation in the world.

After years of not being able to make a single decision for himself and obey to the prison's rules, he had hoped that his going out would have changed things. And then - just a couple of days after his release - he found out about a child he didn't know he had. He was quick to realize that he wouldn't have a say in that situation either, facing - first Donna's - and second Harvey's imposition.

His ultimate luck, though, has put him in the long craved position of power. The ball's in his court now, and they will have to endure.

His hotel's room-service informs him of a couple making its way up. He thanks him with a generous tip and sets the coffees he's brought on the suite's table. He really likes this place: it's spacious, bright and has a fantastic view over Manhattan. The surroundings are of a light ochre colour, and the wooden furniture makes it unbelievably intimate. Sure, it's no place for a kid, but he's been living in it secured by Bishop's and a couple of friends' money, so for now it's more than fine. Everything's better than a cell anyways.

When he hears a knock, he slams the door open, revealing Harvey and Donna - hand in hand. They look like they're rather be at a funeral than being over there, but he's not here to make prisoners. They make their way in and turn in the middle of the room to face him. The united front they put up might intimidate him a little, but he's not giving up.

"Do you want to have something to drink?" He politely proposes, signaling the three cups on their left.

"We're not here to chat over coffee. Say what you have to say." Harvey bites, but keeping his composure. _You're not giving him the satisfaction of losing it again, Specter, _he thinks.

"Alright," Stephen announces taking a seat, inviting the two of them to do the same. "I've been thinking and the way I see it we've got two options."

Donna's hands begin to sweat. Harvey tightens his grip on them.

"We can make a paternity test and, once we find out who's the biological father, the other steps back." He holds up his thumb, as if keeping track. "Or we can decide against it. But in that case, we'll set some days I'll be able to see Penelope. You can introduce me as one of your friends and invite me over dinner, or you can tell her the truth - that is up to you. As long as I get to be a part in her life." He adds his index, as he lodges the second choice.

Apparently, the options aren't that bad, considering that one of them can potentially put Stephen definitely out of he picture. But, thinking about it, they're incredibly devious.

Stephen knows they would never take the first one, since he's put a bee in Harvey's bonnet and he can't have any assurance of being the real deal. He knows he'll never risk that much. Which leaves the second choice, that gives him full liberty, without also jeopardizing his odds.

Harvey recognizes the signature of a well prepared lawyer in this argument. He doesn't like it, but he has to accept it.

Him and Donna share a look, they don't have to talk to decide: the second is the safest option.

They report their choice and hope they won't regret for the rest of their lives.

**Reviews are the fuel that keeps this machine going, so let them come :) I love to hear your opinions! Do you think they have made the right choice? What will happen next?**


	9. Chapter 9

**I've decided flashbacks will be a good part of the next few chapters. I still don't know how long this is going to take, but I really want to keep going for more chapters and maybe they can slow down the process. Though, we have already gotten past the middle of the story. Still, I have still a few tricks up my sleeve and anything can change!**

**Thanks for your continued support and as usual, enjoy!**

**G-**

_Kids? A completely foreign concept to Donna since she actually had one._

_What really scared her was, yes the responsibility that came with it, yes the whole birth and delivery process, but most of all having to spend every day of at least eighteen years looking after someone - who would eventually just forget about you once he grows up - to just have your hours of sleep, sex and time for yourself reduced. She believed that big change could break the equilibrium of her wellbeing, and she would rather much like not to become the typical over stressed woman._

_Since she was a teenager, she had never seen these kind of complicated creatures as part of her future life. Her mother used to tell her that she would eventually change her mind, once she'd find the 'right person', or so to say. Yet, even when she had glimpsed potential husband material in one of her long-term boyfriends, having a baby was still a distant possibility. _

_Then she used to address her irresolution to her young age, claiming she would have had plenty of time to decide to get pregnant. She had dwelled so long in those thoughts that she opened her eyes one day and realized she was pushing forty. She wasn't with anyone back then, yet - significant someone or not - she hadn't suffered the lack of children in her life at all._

_Maybe it just wasn't for her. Not every woman is made to become a mom. She grew more and more accomodate with her 'there's nothing wrong with me if I don't want kids', though the skeptical looks the others threw at her assertion pissed her off. _

_And maybe, the whole rejection was given by the fact that she really didn't want to tie her life forever through a child with someone who wasn't Harvey, because deep down she had kind of always been opened up to the possibility of them being together._

_When she found out that she was expecting, pushed away the gut wrenching sensation and overwhelming fear that had found her, her mind had instantly wondered to one option: abortion. She didn't even know if she wanted to become a mom in general, but she knew that she didn't want to look at her child to be remembered every time of one of the biggest mistakes of her life; the one time she should have known better. The guilt of resentment towards her own kid could have eaten her alive._

_So Donna would have actually done that. Stephen wasn't in the picture anymore and she didn't have to give anybody account for the way she wanted to deal with her body. Then a thought flashed out of the clear blue sky: the baby could have been Harvey's. It could have been for real, the dates matched. And that changed everything. She could never abort Harvey's baby, not without talking about it with him first. _

_He had been such a wonderful supporter to her since the whole Stephen thing, and she could have never looked at him in the eyes after such a betrayal. She couldn't have lived with herself. When she had finally blurted the truth out, she didn't know if she was actually hoping for a positive or negative reaction. The latter would have given her a way out, even if she couldn't have predicted how Harvey asking her to get rid of their baby would have affected her. _

_She never got to experience that because, after the first moment of shock, he had been all in, telling her that she could count on him by her side no matter what. She had also glimpsed something behind his reassuring smile. Something that reminded her a lot of excitement. Truth was, either way, it would have been Donna's baby, and Harvey loved it already. _

_His sureness made her acquire confidence, knowing that she could always rely on him. He gave her strength, a reason to give it a shot. However, it didn't mean that it was easy for her. All on the contrary. _

_She had absolutely no attachment with the baby. No matter how much her belly grew, she couldn't picture a human in it. She had tried so hard to feel some kind of connection, but aside from the changes in her physique and the horrible sickness she was experiencing, it was like she wasn't pregnant at all. People approached her with beamy eyes, asking her how far along she was, if it was a boy or a girl, but she only seemed bothered by those questions. And every time someone reached for her bump, she abruptly moved, feeling violated. It was like she wasn't in charge of her body anymore, who looked more like an incubator._

_Harvey had tried to reach her interest with something more tangible, like choosing the nursery's forniture, a name or some cute onesies, yet nothing seemed to make her access those emotions he desperately wanted her to feel. _

_She wondered if the baby could feel that she didn't love him, because as cruel as it may sound it was true: she didn't love him. 'Have I made the right choice?' , she used to ask herself. Maybe she was doing it only to make Harvey happy, but what was the point? Every sonogram she saw, every heartbeat she heard, made her more stoic, if that was even possible. Because in comparison to Harvey's jubilee, her was carelessness got super shown off._

_One day they were sitting in the ob/gyn's waiting room for their monthly appointment, Donna absently flipping through the pages of a trashy magazine, discovering what Jennifer Lopez was wearing to a party._

_Harvey placed a hand on her thigh out of habit, moving his thumb back and forth, coaxing her into giving him attention. Nothing. So he gently closed the envelope she was holding, gaining nothing more than a sigh and an annoyed look._

"_How was your day?" He asked with purpose, tilting his head just slightly and flashing her with a bright smile._

_Donna rolled her eyes._

"_You worked with me basically the whole time, but if you want me to go over the main points of the Sidwell merger again..." She trailed off, playing the fool. She knew exactly what he was talking about. _

_That was his turn to give her a pointed look. _

"_That's not what I meant and you know it. How did you feel? Is the baby still bothering you?" He wondered with concern. She had been feeling off the whole week, getting a strange sensation she had never experienced before. She did not want to address it, but Harvey knew she was afraid something could actually be wrong._

_Donna took hold of the journal on his lap again, opening it and burying her gaze into the article she pretended to read. _

"_Same as always." She replied after a minute or so. "It's probably choking on its umbilical cord." She added with nonchalance._

_Harvey cringed at the image she had just put in his head. He understood that she was just masking her true worry, but enough was enough._

"_Donna." He scolded her not so playfully._

"_Relax. I'm joking, ok?" She realized - with well hidden shame - that she may have gone too far. "Mostly." She whispered._

"_I heard you!" He almost yelled._

_She finally lifted her head to look at his big brown eyes, "I'm sorry! But it could be, and at least I'm prepared if there are bad news." She scoffed._

_Harvey was ensure about asking the following question, but did it regardless, before he could change his mind, "Because there could be bad news or because you hope for bad news?" _

_He regretted those words the second they left his mouth. Her expression turned into one of complete hurt and a bit of anger. _

"_I- I didn't-" He tried but got cut off by the doctor calling Donna's name. She didn't even turn, the inquisition still too vivid in her ears. She wanted to say something, deny it all and call him an idiot for even thinking about that. But guilt was set free, and made her realize that there was a particular reason if Harvey was brought to think such a thing. _

_They quietly made their way into the basic examination room. Donna undressed herself and got ready for the check up. Not once she dared to look at Harvey._

_As the doctor was moving the doppler across her belly, telling the couple what she was seeing on the screen, Donna's eyes were fixated to the other side of the table._

_Nothing new._

_When the device reached the left side, her features suddenly changed. She became paler than normal and jerked a little. _

"_What?" Harvey got up from his chair._

_Donna's mouth went as dry as the desert, words drawn back as sunk into quicksand. She tried to formulate a coherent sentence but her brain couldn't keep up with her emotions. _

"_Donna, what?" He pressed, his palms begun to get clumsy._

"_Something's not right." She managed to let out between heavy breaths._

"_What do you mean? What does she mean?" He turned to the doctor with an alarming tone._

"_Donna, please lay back." The woman in scrubs tried to push her down, failing miserably._

"_No, this is too much, I can't stay here." She shook her head with so much force it could detach. Her movements were frantic, dictated by irrational fear. Harvey was petrified. He didn't think his touch would be welcomed, and, even it was, he believed it couldn't have soothed her. She looked on the verge of a breakdown, probably the result of months of pent up tension. _

"_If you could just-"_

"_You don't understand, there's something wrong. I can feel it and it's not a good feeling." Tears started escaping the corners of her eyes uncontrollably. "I knew I couldn't do it. I don't have it in me. Please..."_

"_Please lie still, let us help you." Harvey cried out, while keeping her down under the weight of his forearm. He felt bad for basically forcing her, and it took all his will to keep her in place nonetheless she was pleading him with tears in her eyes. _

_The doctor was quick to seize the moment of immobility to place the doppler back to where it was and give a look. She analyzed the image and a smile creeped along her lips. _

"_Oh honey, there's absolutely nothing wrong with what you're feeling." She shook her head while speaking softly._

"_No?" Donna sobbed, her chest beginning to rise and fall with a steadier rhythm._

_She locked her gaze with Donna's, before repositioning the monitor in front of the examination table for her to see. "Your baby is kicking." _

"_What?" Harvey lets out a wet chuckle at the humorous absurdity of the thing. _

"_Mh mh. It's pretty common to feel a little nudge during these weeks, but she just gave you one hell of a kick." She observed._

"_She?" They both widened their eyes, with hearts in their throats and mouths agape._

"_Oh god, how unprofessional. You hadn't said if you wanted to know the sex. My fault." The doctor admitted sheepishly._

_Sensing it was probably an intimate moment between the couple, she cleared Donna's belly from the leftovers of the gel and excused herself to give them some privacy._

"_Harvey." Donna called him once they were alone. Her tone was light and free from any worries._

_He swiped the fresh tears with his thumb before trailing his eyes off the black and white screen, only for them to land on hers. Without breaking the contact, she took his hand and let it rest on her left side. He waited and waited till he felt it. The contact of her outstretched skin with his palm made him gasp. _

"_Harvey our baby is kicking." She voiced proudly, almost in awe._

_It was probably the first time he had ever seen her so taken. The change was just as sudden as evident. She had a sparkle in those glossy eyes he hadn't seen in a while, and she couldn't bring herself to stop smiling._

"_Our baby girl is kicking." He stated mirroring her sentiment. _

_The way they were looking at each other was almost too much to handle. They were afraid their hearts could explode. Soon, all the troubles were forgotten and the only thing they could feel was peace._

"_She's going to have my hair." Donna said as Harvey brushed a red lock out of her face. Now - he thought - now she's really feeling it._

_As a matter of fact Donna felt it. She felt like there was actually someone else between her and Harvey. She felt like she was really growing a person. She felt that unintentional and unlimited joy everyone went on and on about._

_She felt like a mother. _

_._

_._

After having spent almost the entire morning indulging, Harvey has finally taken on the right rhythm and is deep into taking care of the Fisher acquisition.

Truth is, what has really been keeping his mind occupied is the thought of tonight's dinner. And it's not because he's going to eat fish and - _damn - _he hates fish, but because of the person who's going to sit at the same table. Goddamn Stephen Huntley.

To be honest, he knows that by choosing casual dates he would be forced to spend time with him. Though, it doesn't stop him from hating it with all the fibers of his being.

Harvey has already experienced a lot of sleepless nights, the concept of maybe having made the wrong decision haunting him. He's changed his mind about a thousand times during the last week and a half, but he's never gonna tell Donna. He's never gonna tell her what's churning in his head, that - to be fair - seems more like a blender of hopes and frustrations at the moment. Yet, he does feel her tossing and turning just as much as him, and can't help but wonder if she feels the same way.

A fair hour has passed since he's found refuge into the sanctity of his office; the soundproofed glass doors serving as a barrier from the chaos outside and guaranteeing him much needed space.

From the corner of his eyes he catches a hint of white making its way across his office. His sight is unintentionally brought up, but he quickly brings it back down, reminding himself of his already set goal. Yet he did see something strange. _Don't fall for it Specter, you're just looking for anything to interrupt you,_ he thinks. Though his will doesn't hover his curiosity, so he eventually finds himself scanning the surroundings once again to find the object of his distraction.

He slightly leans over his desk, suited stomach pressing onto the glass surface, as his head tilts to get a better view.

Two men - or what he supposes are men - all wrapped up in baggy Tyvek coverall, antigas masks and safety glasses, are trying to seal with tape the elevators.

_Okay, maybe I've spent too much time in here, _Harvey thinks to himself. He blinks a few times, rubs his eyes, but the scene that is unfolding right under them is still crystal clear. He's not seeing things.

He quickly gets up - the stack of papers lying on his desk long forgotten - and makes his way to the reception.

"Mh, I'm sorry, but what the hell are you doing?" He asks with discernible astonishment. His frown deepens when the tallest man turns around to look at him through his thick transparent glasses. Not even a inch of flesh in exposed to the air, his full body is covered and secured.

Right on clue, Louis approaches them with his signature walk. The way his fists are sealed, his shoulders are stiffed and his arms swing at each weighty step he makes, tells him he's about to deliver an outburst.

"Oh thank god, Harvey, you're here!" He lets out a sigh of relief, opening widely his arms to envelope his friend into a hug.

Harvey jerks at the contact, and tries to unravel himself from the squid-like hold just after a few seconds. He sounds muffled squeezed against his colleague, "Louis, what on earth is going on here?" He cannot think of a single plausible reason for them to be there, because a hygiene inspection was most certainly not on their schedule.

"Wait a minute," Louis suddenly pushes him away, allowing his lungs to be filled with air again. "We should probably keep a legitimate distance between us. It's dangerous." He waves his finger between them.

"What are you talking about?" Typical. Louis' presence fills Harvey's head with more questions than answers.

Louis starts pacing up and down the hall, mumbling incoherent thoughts and sweating as if he was in a steambath. "Why us? I mean, that dumbass twiddles his stupid thumbs on a beach while we bust our asses day and night, and what do we get in return?"

"Louis stop-"

"Death! Freaking death!" He screams.

Harvey sighs loudly as the crease on his forehead takes the size of Wisconsin. His hands find Louis' forearms to stop him and urge him to make eye contact.

"Louis! Take a deep breath and tell me what on god's green earth is happening right the hell now!" He spells, shaking him to sober him up.

"You don't know?" At such a rhetorical question he is quick to add, "Of course you don't."

He takes a deep breath as instructed and sits down in one of the front desk's chairs.

"You remember Tom, right?"

Harvey's bottom lip protrudes a little as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, but then firmly shakes his head.

"Golden? Our third year associate? Really?"

"I've got no clue, but do we truly want to focus on that?" He asks tiredly.

"So, he left for the Philippines a couple of weeks ago. When he got back he claimed he was sick. I refused to give him the day off because, I mean, come on! Suck it up! You're already a slacker, useless, slo-"

"Focus!" Harvey snaps his fingers right in front of Louis' face.

"Yes! Ok, so today he got worse. His wife took him to the hospital. The doctors ran some tests and they've found out he has contracted nonetheless than TBC!"

Meanwhile, Donna and Katrina are making their way towards their offices after a well deserved coffee break. Katrina is just telling her friend about the new ballet class she plans to attend to, when Donna catches the rather bizzarre scene they're walking past to. She stops abruptly, raising her arm to have the blonde do the same. She bumps against it and reads the situation: Louis panicking about something and Harvey trying to calm him down is nothing new, but the two figures that seem to be out of some cheap tv late night program about disinfestation certainly are.

"What-" the younger woman begins, but is roughly interrupted.

"Why doesn't anyone know a shit in this goddamn place!" Louis burst out.

"What is wrong with you?" Donna interferes, glancing at Harvey for an explanation. He raises his hand to be removed from the equation.

Louis is already nervous enough. He's way too preoccupied with worrying he could have caught some weird tropical disease, that he doesn't have time to fill everyone in.

"What is wrong with me is that if everyone would stick to their jobs and not take six fucking days to drink from a friggin' coconut and sunbath, we wouldn't be subjected to an isolation!"

"A what now?" The three pairs of eyes widen more than normal.

"We can't leave the building unless they confirm we are free from tuberculosis. The whole floor is in quarantine."

Harvey begins to pale a little at the mention of such a illness. He doesn't like to dwell in the thought of little bacteria taking possession of his body, sneaking in and settling in his lungs to moltiplic- _oh no._

He swears he catches a wave of fear flashing through Katrina's gaze. For a moment she's dropped her head, and, as quick as she was to recover, Harvey has noticed. If even Katrina Bennet loses her composure, he's allowed to too.

Plus, if taking care his clinical condition isn't enough, he shares a look with Donna that makes him remember a bigger problem.

The goddamn dinner.

**And that's it. Feel free to review and give your opinion. Everything is well accepted. Give me even ideas if you feel up to it. We'll see how Darvey manages their external problem while being trapped with the whole fiftieth floor!**


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter was support to be even longer than this, but decided to split it in two. It was tiresome but I enjoyed writing it. Great part of the rest is done, so I believe I'll upstate soon. I hope to have written Louis as much in character as I could given the situation. He's such a dynamical persona that I hope I won't disappoint. Just imagine him on our screens, I'll tell you, I've never used so many exclamation points. **

**G-**

As all of his blood rushes south to his brain, a weird sense of heaviness follows path and collects at the bottom of his forehead. It probably looks like a hollow full of the scarlet liquid previously contained in his veins, and the realization only fuels his current nausea. The compression spreads to his nerves and brings pressure where they branch. After just a minute and a half he's almost totally clouded, his vision starts to blurry when something in his pulse shifts.

Its rhythm has changed, he would recognize it, after all he had a heart attack. His already fatigued organ should not have to keep up with more beats. Ok, he's changing position _now_, before the only position he can assume is recumbent, in his grave.

Louis rolls himself over, the few extra pounds making the achievement a little bit clumsier. He violently outstretches his neck up, in order to make the blood flow down and sprinkle his interiors again. The feet that were once laying on the headboard now find their natural place on the ground, his sore back finally resting against the cushions. Being head down was probably not a good idea. He's just so restless.

Louis Marlowe Litt has never been good at being quiet and still. He is passionate, and loud, and fierceful, and - unless he's specifically told to on a working or medical level - he doesn't take orders from anyone. A couple of chimps in Tyvek suits that tells him to stay there and do nothing is not admissible.

The group in the room groans at yet another Louis' change of position. He's been squirting and fussing for over an hour and they just can't take it anymore.

Katrina can't help but think about those experiments where scientists put some rats in a confined space and observe their reactions. They analyze their behavior in order to draw up their characters and find the ones who have more spirit of survival and the ones who cave first. Well, her former mentor certainly falls within the second range.

He's trying to distract himself - that much is clear - but it only foments his nervousness. And it shows. Oh boy, if it shows. He's doing a very poor job at trying to hide his worries. While certain people like Harvey are clearly in distress, but manage to swallow it up. As a matter of fact, the only outcome of his currently buried real state of mind are little sporadic nervous twitches.

It's his fingers. He drums them on the surface of his desk, eliciting a sound that echoes in the silence that fills the room. One time, then again and again.

"Can you stop doing that?" Louis asks sourly enough, cracking one eye open and glaring at Harvey.

The man keeps tapping on the glass, shaking his head and moving his brows closer one another to fish a further explanation.

Louis discloses the eyelids of his other eye and bends forward, "That thing you're doing with your fingers. It's making me go nuts!" He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Harvey rolls his eyes and stills his movements, freezing his hand, only for his index to aim at Louis after a second, "_I _am making _you _go nuts?" He throws his hands up. "Jesus, you've basically burned a hole into my carpet and now you're doing the same on my couch!"

He wants to come up with a good excuse, but it won't come, considering he's currently crunched on the leather forniture. So he does what he does best: he attacks. "At least I'm not pretending to have joined a rock band with my digits!"

"And what would you possibly know about anything that isn't ballet?" Harvey quips with playful smile on his lips.

"We've been over it." Louis suddenly stands up. Clearly, a minute of rest doesn't encounter his liking. "And that was a joke, dumbass." He whispers the second part, but still loud enough for Harvey to hear.

"Watch it!"

"Gentlemen, are we arguing again? Because, if that's the case, you'll have to stop right now." Mike walks in, hands raised in sign of settling the chaos. Behind him appear his fiancé and the redhead.

"We can't have you ripping each other's heads off when we're blocked here. You'll make us all go crazy." Rachel adds, crossing her arms in front of her cream blouse.

"We're long past that." Katrina comments, rubbing her hands over her face. Screw makeup.

Harvey immediately spots Donna standing next to the door. She's not even smiling at Katrina's words, she's tense and if he didn't know any better, he still could tell that she's worried. He stands up, rounds his desk and gets closer. His hand grabs gently her right arm and tugs her to the corner.

"They didn't let you. Did they?" He observes.

She shakes her head, confirming, her gaze landing on the floor. "They told me that it doesn't matter if we have to pick up our daughter. They suggested to call someone and arrange something."

"Fuck," He courses under his breath. "We could call Heather. I know she's not supposed to be working tonight but-"

"What for? Stephen will show up at eight anyways." She states, even if she's the last one who wants him there. It's just ridiculous that something this impending happens right the night they're suppose to have dinner.

"We could cancellate." Harvey suggests, like it's the most obvious solution. And it is, or it would be. But Stephen is extremely punctilious and most certainly not stupid, he will probably think they're making up excuses. Not that they wouldn't, but in this case it's a case of force majeure.

"No, we can't. He'll know something's up." She's concerned, that much is obvious as she sniffs, but Harvey can't discern his sentiment from the reality of the predicament.

"Then enlighten me, Donna. Since you are ditching all of my ideas." He huffs. Deep down he knows she's just reasoning, but he feels powerless trapped in there and the thought of what is approaching outside is far less delightful.

"Do you think I'm enjoying myself? I'm just being realistic! You think once he finds out we're stuck here, he won't insist on picking her up himself?" She's upset. The wrinkles on her forehead and the way she's clenching her jaw are the signals of that. But he reads a little protectiveness in her behavior too. After all, she's also a mom who is just as preoccupied as him.

"Don't act like I'm being difficult. Because our situation _is _difficult. We don't exactly have the upper hand and I'm trying-" She starts hyperventilating, saying all to fast and too vigorously, till he doesn't need to hear more.

"Ok, you're right." He takes her face into his palms and she feels like crying. She's so tired of trying to find a way to get them out of this mess. Fleeing the harm's way is grueling and she's never felt more helpless in her life.

Harvey fells a hot tear escaping her wet eye and colliding with his thumb, which quickly catches it. He's an ass for making her feel that way; there's no need to add to the load she's already carrying, when she's clearly struggling with her own fears. Yet, there's something that usually results in him lashing out at her. If he looked more carefully, he could say that he resents her a little, after all, but he's not there yet to analyze those feelings, let alone name them.

"You're trying to help, and _I _am being difficult. I'm sorry." He apologizes while stroking her soft features. He'll never tell her, but he loves feelings the not so soft ones too. It's like he can trace the lines that mark the years they have spent together under his fingertips. But she would either call him a sap for his mushy thoughts, or an idiot for basically telling her that she has wrinkles. So he keeps this guilty pleasure for himself.

Her labored breath is hot against his wrist, as she leans into his touch. "You know what we have to do." Donna begins carefully.

"I don't want to." He complains with a quiet cry.

"Me neither." She says softly. "But unfortunately it's not up to us to decide." The melancholy permeates her words.

She tilts her head to kiss his hand, letting her own reach for it and intertwine their fingers. It's a little ruse to turn his attention to her affectionate touch rather than what she's going to do next. The other goes down to the hidden pocket of her navy dress and pulls her phone out of it.

She indulges in dialing the numbers, but after a good thirty seconds the combination appears on the display and she pushes the call button, before moving the device close to her ear.

Stephen's Iphone buzzes on the surface of his cherrywood table. He moves from the decanter to where the vibrations come from. With one hand holding the empty glass, he picks the mobile up to notice with surprise the familiar ID caller.

"_Hello." _He presses the phone between his ear and shoulder, walking towards the bottles of whiskey.

"Stephen, listen, we have a problem." Donna says, hand squeezing Harvey's. It's just logical it's her to handle the conversation. After all, he's just punched the man days before.

"_What kind of problem?" _He asks, not sounding so convinced.

When he saw Donna's name announcing the imminent phone call, he had thought she wanted to discuss further details about their plans. Now he wonders if she just wants to delete them.

"The office has been closed. We are at risk for tuberculosis and they have to make sure we're clean before we can go home." She briefly explains.

"_And how long will that take?" _He's genuinely curious and asks the question while taking hold of the cellphone again, only to sandwich it again, but on the other side so he can pour himself two fingers of alcohol.

"As long as it takes. We have no idea." She shrugs.

"_So, for tonight..." _He takes a sip of the burning drink. Then, he soothes the sensation on his lips licking them.

"We can postpone it." She tries, crossing her fingers and hoping he will just drop it. They are giving him a plausible explanation, if they would have wanted to fool him, they would have never gone with something like an isolation.

He's about to say yes, when a thought occurs, "_What about Penelope? Who is going to take care of her?"_

Donna looks at Harvey pursuing her lips. He knows he's caught them, but beckons regardless, for her to continue. She can lead the game, he trusts her.

"Well," She takes a breath, trying to sound as casual as possible. He doesn't have to understand they'd rather cut their arms off than let him near her. It would only fuel his desire to do that. "We've got a trusted babysitter and her classmates' mothers."

"_But you also have me. I could go."_

Shit.

He jumps at the first occasion.

"Stephen, there's no need-"

"_It's not about need. I want to." _

But I don't, she thinks to herself.

"Look_-"_

"_Donna, I'm not stupid. You don't trust me and that's fine. But I would never do anything to Penelope."_ He assures her.

At the lack of response, he reaches for an incentive.

"_I wouldn't want to come down to it, but do I need to remind you that's what you agreed to? Me being in the picture?" _He pushes just enough.

"No, you don't." She sighs. Defeated, she glances at Harvey, who can do nothing but nod his head. "Fine." She concedes.

Harvey lets go of Donna's hand and bristles his sandy blonde hair. He starts pacing around, when he decides he needs to take a moments to himself.

She wants to say something, beg him to stay, but when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out. She'll let him blow off some steam, while she returns her attention to the other man on the line.

"You'll need your ID, for when you pick her up. I'll forward an email to the school with the leave, but they're meticulous, so they'll want to check."

"_No problem." _He happily says.

"You take her to _her _house, not yours. And you wait for us. Understood?"

"_Understood."_

"And Stephen," She adds before putting down. "Call us when you get there."

"_Why?" _He asks as he lets down the residue of his whiskey.

"She's learned to not doesn't trust strangers. And you're one for her. She's a pragmatic kid and she'll want to hear from her _mom and dad_."

.

.

Stephen's nervous, since he doesn't have any kind of experience with kids. He's never been married, and no one of his past girlfriends has been that serious to make him want to start a family. He's always been strictly committed to his job, and sometimes being Darby's right hand meant spending the night at the office or days abroad. After all, that's how he met Donna.

Since the moment he has landed eyes on her, he had been fascinated. Of course,the first thing he had admired was her figure, all wrapped in a super expensive turquoise dress. He had been attracted by her body. But when - regardless being turned around - she had noticed him and scolded him about entering Harvey's office without her permission, he had felt it. It was some kind of sparkle, a connection, and her perfect features, porcelain skin and fiery red hair were just an incentive.

Banter flew easily between the pair and he had never been more intrigued by a woman in his entire life. He craved time with her, loved hearing her talk, the confident words that came out from her perfect shaped mouth, directly by that intelligent brain of hers. The forwardness with which she carried herself around captured him more than he had liked to admit.

Work was just as important to her as it was to him, and he liked that. But maybe, back then, he hadn't understood that 'work' meant 'Harvey'.

Thinking about it, he has always been the third person in their relationship. At first, Stephen had believed that the surly attitude of the man was just given by the circumstances. They were dealing with a hard case - murder to be correct - and he believed they were on opposite sides. But as he grew more familiar with the dynamics, he saw what was underneath: the lawyer was jealous to the bone.

What sucked was that Donna kept defending him, emphasizing that she had something with Harvey that ha been going on for years. Stephen couldn't accept that she put the nonexistent relationship with her boss above what they may have had. But he's got it now. It wasn't just blind trust and loyalty, but love.

The act is, he's in love with her too.

Now that he knows the kind of life they could share and now that he's firmly convinced their affair has brought to life a beautiful kid, he wants to try again. He isn't delusional, she's still married, but he's not afraid of some competition. He truly feels a changed man and is hopeful that he can show Donna that too. He knows that it'll take time and effort. But what does he have to lose? He can only gain.

He scans the crowd of toddlers with their colored backpacks, evidently bigger than theirselves. Their run excitedly towards their parents after a tiring day at school, but with toothy - and not so toothy - smiles on their faces. It's loud and messy, but Stephen feels overwhelmed with joy and freshness. He could get used to it.

He spots red in the middle of the courtyard, and he knows it's her. He gently approaches the little ginger head and calls her name. The little girls looks for a familiar face, expecting her parents, Heater or even Mike and Rachel to be there, but none of them are in sight. Her eyes land on the well-dressed stranger that's waving at her, and she feels scared. She knows she doesn't have to be, her parents told her that as long as she's in a public space and she's alert, she's safe. She turns to leave and go to her teacher, but the man blocks her nudging her shoulder.

"Hey, I know you probably don't recognize me, but we've met before." He suggests. The prompt encourages her to look more closely at him, to seek any similarities. He's wearing a suit, like her dad, Louis and Mike.

Mike. Now she remembers. He's that gentleman that asked her name and how old she was. The fact that he isn't entirely foreign is a relief, and if Mike was talking with him, it means he knows him too. Yet, she had sensed tension in the room, like he wasn't well accepted.

"Stephen." She acknowledges him.

He lets out a breath he didn't long he was holding, thanking his lucky stars that she recognized him. At that point, he was afraid she would have started screaming that someone was trying to kidnap her.

"You remember my name?" He chuckles in amazement.

"I know everyone's name." She states with a confidence that resembles so much Donna's. There's no doubt who she takes after.

"Right." Stephen smirks. "I used to work with your mom." He doesn't mention Harvey on purpose, refusing to call him her dad. "She had a problem, unfortunately she's stuck at work and told me to take you home."

She eyes him head to toe, and he can basically see her cogs starting to churn. Stephen feels exposed, like he's under exam, which he basically is. She's figuring out if she can trust him, and he's intimidated by her judging.

She takes her time, and then voices, "I don't believe you at all."

Stephen knew that was most likely to happen. She's a smart kid, he can tell. He can't help but feeling a little proud of her.

"Your mom was sure you would have said that. She taught you well." Her eyes twinkle visibly. Her mom would be pleased by her being so adult. She seeks her mother's approval since forever. "But I'm not lying. How can I prove that to you?"

"I want to call them. And I want to show you to my teacher." And with that, she closes her arms in front of her and pumps her chest, like she's seen her dad do a million times when he's negotiating. He's right, she feels powerful.

Stephen shakes his head, realizing how Donna knows her well, and how much this baby girl is different from any other of her contemporary. He can't wait to spend some time with her and, hopefully, gain her trust. He was afraid to be inadequate, but the more she knows Penelope, the more he finds it easy to bond. It's like the miniature of an adult.

Stephen seals their pact with a handshake and obliges all of her requests.

.

.

Where is she now? Is she afraid that we have forgotten about her? Is she disappointed that we have let a British stranger come to pick her up? What is that son of a bitch inculcating in her head?

These are the questions that fill Harvey's head at the moment.

The air fells thicker, his chest feels hovered by an elephant and he prays the lord he doesn't have a panic attack right now. Yet, the familiar pressure at the edge of his stomach tells him otherwise.

He takes a deep breath and does his best to stop his shaking and itchy hands, symptom they've going to get sweaty. That as well as his forehead.

Donna notices the shift of his edgy demeanor immediately, and slowly takes his hand in hers. Very slowly, almost as if she's worried to startle him or break him.

Unfortunately, the ultimate action draws Louis' attention, who examines Harvey's aspect too. What he reads into it, though, are the symptoms of the disease.

"Harvey, you feel ill?" He panics, suddenly taking the distance from him.

"No Louis, he's just tired." Donna steps in, as Harvey seems unable to form a coherent response. He's on the razor's edge and he doesn't need to be on the center of the attention.

"You don't look tired, you look sick." Louis pushes, not willing to let it go. He feels uneasy as well, so. "Oh god, I knew it. You're down."

Everyone rush to help Harvey's cause, not much because it wouldn't be possible that he's contracted the virus, but to prevent Louis' tantrum.

"No, he needs to be taken to another room. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I've breathed his contaminated air!"

"Louis, calm down." Katrina tries to soothe him.

"I don't have anything like that, trust me." Harvey reassures, feeling a little relieved his attention his brought to something else, even if he's still in the spotlight .

"TBC doesn't care if you're the great Harvey Specter. You're not untouchable!" He starts undoing his tie to free his constricted throat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and gulping loudly. "I don't feel great too. I can't breathe. That's it, I'm slowly dying."

"Lou-"

"I can't believe it. We're all going to die. This is my last day on earth." The dramatic gene kicks in, Donna knows it well after he's helped her dust off her Shakespeare knowledge. The thing is, she really believes he's unwell, but knows it's just suggestion.

"Someone please stop him." Says Gretchen, who looks on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"There is so much I still want to do. I wanted to adopt that prodigious Persian cat and sign him up for that contest. I'm going to miss the annual origami festival too-"

"That's it. Im' outta here." The black woman announces with a huff, standing to head to the door.

"Louis shut the fuck up! No one is leaving and no one is dying!" Harvey shouts in exhaustion.

"He's right. I get that we're all stressed the hell out of our system because we've been locked here for hours, but we have to keep it together. So stop shouting and start acting like a goodman grownup!" Rachel, who had been silent all that long, finally speaks, gaining a question look from her colleagues. "What? I've had enough too for god's sakes!"

The inspectors knock at the glass door of Harvey's office, acknowledging their presence. "Sorry to interrupt your bickering, but it's time to take some analysis."

"Wait, what do you mean with 'take some analysis'?"

The man on the right lifts up a couple of packed injections. All the colors leave Alex's face.

"Nah, no way I'm going to let you near me with that thing." He backs off three steps to put some distance between him and his worst fear.

"After we get the results and we make sure you are clean, you're free to go." The doctor informs them. A flash of hope grazes the lawyers', secretary's and COO's faces.

"Alex, come on!" The group encourages him.

"Insert a needle in my arm and I'll sue you."

"Blood. They want to take our blood, Donna!" Louis is terrified as well, and hangs on Donna's arm almost begging her to make it stop.

"Louis, I'll give exactly two seconds to tear yourself away from me." She says, calm but sternly enough to give him the creeps.

"I can give you the option of the tampon, if you prefer." The Tyvek suited man offers, raising a cotton wool that seems to go on and on for miles.

God, it was like the briefcase of the horrors.

"If you think I'm going to let them scrub my throat with that abomination because baby boy one and two can't suck it up, you're all delusional." Gretchen points out, crossing her arms in front of her prominent chest.

"ENOUGH!" Donna shouts with all the force she has in her. She sick and tired of people that doesn't want to cooperate. She has far more important problems that she'll have to deal with at home.

"Louis and Alex, stop acting like four year olds at the first medical visit, or I'll take your blood with the bites of my own teeth if that's necessary." She points a finger a finger at the pair.

"Gretchen, if they're such wusses to not make it, you are going to submit yourself to the tampon." Gretchen eyes her with arrogance. "And don't you dare look at me like that, or I swear I'll shove that thing down your throat myself." Donna threatens.

The two intruders can't help but enjoy the cabaret with an amused laugh.

"And you," She turns to them. "Take off your faces that smug expression, before I slap it away."

"Anyone has any objections?" Silence. "Great, then let's knock ourselves out, shall we?"

Harvey smiles at that badass and slightly out of stock wife of his. They will always need their COO.

**So, if you're come down till the end, congratulations! Hope you enjoyed it. I've put so much effort in this so please tell me what you think. Stay tuned for part two! (A little more of Stephen and Penelope and Donna and Harvey coming home)**


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter may be rated M, but nothing major. This is the first actual time I've written a little dirtier, so please let me know if I messed it up. I the last few weeks I haven't felt like many were still following this, but I still wanted to let you know that we're getting closer to the end. Though, I still have surprises in hold for you. As usual: Enjoy!**

**G-**

It had been awkward for Stephen to be carried around by Harvey Specter's personal driver, but it had also been the most rational choice. Ray was the one to have a spare key to Donna's apartment, trusted with it after years of loyal service. Penelope was also familiar with him and if sitting in his car could make her less suspicious, he was totally on board with that. Honestly, it had been for the best.

Ignoring the hostile look the employee throws at him, he digs into his pockets to shove out a more than generous tip and offers it to him. The man replies with a polite smile that doesn't quite reach his gaze, declining the offer and saying that he's not a taxicab, and that giving a ride to miss Penelope isn't much of a job, but a pleasure. A sheepish look takes hold of Stephen's features, who prefers to just nod and thank.

He lets Penelope open the car door on her own and head directly inside of the building. A tall concierge is leaning against the front desk, he's wearing dark jeans and a cheap/not-so-cheap suit jacket, the kind of clothes that not everyone can afford, but certainly nothing extravagant. His wardrobe suggest his relaxed but put together persona, and his five o' clock shadow helps his casual attire. As soon as he steps him, the man eyes him with weariness. It could be just a feeling, but it seems like everyone's screaming that he doesn't belong to this.

Penelope greets him with a cheerful 'hi Johnny' and introduces him to Stephen. The porter seems genuinely relieved that the little girl knows who's a stranger to him and decides to let them take the elevator up, wishing them a happy continuation of the day. Nevertheless, Stephen swears he still keeps an eye on him.

The toddler pressures him to open her home's door and then let him in, since he's the guest and she's the host. He smiles at her attitude, which he grows to find adorable, yet pretty much too forward for her age. She's going to be a lot of trouble when she grows up, if you ask him.

As she leads the way, Stephen's eye can't help but fall on the little details of the house. The female touch is far too obvious, but in view of the soft patterns and taste. Plus, it has spacious open rooms and light comes from everywhere. The little succulent plants scattered on the shelves and coffee table - yet with some kind of method - give a green vibe to the atmosphere. Stephen believes they must have chosen them in order to add life to the environment, but to spend as less time as possible looking after them as well. Light wooden forniture soften the surroundings and it's all very cozy. It's probably the pictures hung on the walls.

They include everything, from the photos of what he assumes are the couple's parents, to photos of birthdays and mundane moments. He's particularly captured by one. The snap portrays Donna, holding her baby bump with a big smile. The nubbin is present, but small enough to make him think she's about four months pregnant. She's wearing a laminated silver dress that hugs her ever growing curves just right. Around her it's dark and her make-up is well handled, so she must have been out celebrating something. Her hair are thicker and brighter, perfectly styled with long curls falling over her shoulders. Her skin is free from any imperfection and the light rose color is compact on her cheeks. He can't see any big difference than her usual self, only for her face that is a little rounder, but it's almost imperceptible. Her body - except, of course, her tummy - is almost untouched by the changes it was going through. Yes, he decides growing a human really suited her. He regrets having missed this.

"My mom told me that's a special memory." A little voice snaps him back to reality.

"What?" Stephen asks, a little dumbfounded, as he puts back into place the frame he had previously grabbed.

"The picture. She told me I was in her tummy back then." She explains as if she knows what she's talking about. She comes to stand near him and points a finger at the image. "Right there."

"You must have been very tiny to fit there." He comments playfully.

"Silly, I was tiny but then I grew!" She replies at his almost rhetorical suggestion with a roll of eyes.

"Oh wait, did you just call me silly?" He asks with simulated offense. A hand comes to pat his chest.

"You're a big man, you should know how it works." When she cocks a brow, he's painful to admit that she does look like Harvey. Or maybe it's just the cockiness in her attitude.

"And you know how it works?" He inquires, full of curiosity. He's a little afraid to have spoken those words, not deeming it appropriate for them to venture in those kind of topics already. So I t doesn't matter how curious he can be, he has to stop before he says something he would instantly regret and guarantee him a bad death.

Lucky for him, she seems to have lost interest in their on-going conversation, liquidating him with a confident 'yes' and diverting her gaze to the toys in the box next to them. She starts taking the items out and playing with them, not minding his presence at all.

Stephen takes off his coat, hangs it and pulls up his sleeves to start cooking something. He finds most of the work done in a container inside the fridge, assuming fish, vegetables and rice are healthy enough for dinner. It's probably what they should have eaten anyway. As he works, he keeps glancing at the little girl in front of him. He scans her in search of similarities between them, but to be honest, she mostly looks like Donna, so it's kind of hard to find any. She may have his nose and his lips, but its still early to tell.

Time passes relatively quickly, as Stephen keeps himself busy with the stoves. He plates the food and places it on the table, joining Penelope as she eats, but not touching a carrot himself. They make up casual conversation about her day at school and as soon as she finishes, Stephen whips out his ace in the hole. He sets a tub of ice cream in front of her and watches as her little hazel eyes twinkle. He knew it, every kid can be won with ice cream.

Penelope bites her lip, "I'm not allowed to eat ice cream on Thursdays." She reluctantly confesses. She mentally kicks herself for having given this piece of information when she could have just taken advantage of the situation.

"Well," Stephen sighs theatrically. "What a shame your parents aren't here to find out if you have it or not." He eyes her with purpose, a playful smirk that matches her own.

"I like you!" She almost screams in a high-peached voice, reaching for a spoon and making the cold dessert hers.

Stephen's heart warms at her declaration. He knows he shouldn't be so taken aback by her words, since he kind of bribed her, but he can't help it. It's like the very first share of thoughts towards him, and they're positive ones.

"So you won't tell my dad?" She makes sure before getting her hands dirty with the proof of her crime.

"Yeah, it'll be our little secret." He states, happy he has gained some kind of leverage, and against Harvey to say the least. "If I was your dad, I'd let you eat ice cream anytime you'd want."

The answer goes lost in the air, Penelope being too preoccupied trying to cut through the still stone-cold food. Maybe he has pushed too much, and it's better she hasn't been paying attention. What he had hoped for anyway? An 'I'd wish you were my dad'? Even he recognizes that it's too soon.

"You know, as a matter of fact, I'd really want to be a dad too." He approaches the matter more cautiously.

"You don't have a baby?" She asks mind-absently, while getting a mouthful.

"Honestly, I might as well have, but we haven't seen each other very often. I'm afraid she won't want me." He confesses, paying extremely attention to the words he uses.

"So it's a girl like me?" He manages to catch we attention.

"Yes, she is." He answers with a soft curve of his lips. "As regards, since you're both so similar, what do you say? If it were you - hypothetically - would you like to have me as your dad?" He eagerly asks.

As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he hears the key jingle in the lock and the door open.

"Quick! Hide the ice cream!" Penelope instructs, as she leaves an overwhelmed Stephen covering her tracks. She runs as fast as her little legs allow her and greets her parents, the talk long forgotten.

"There you are!" Harvey exclaims, picking her up in a bat of an eye. "Oh, I missed you so much!" He says, squeezing her little self a little too tightly.

"I missed you too." She gives him a soft peck on the forehead.

Stephen emerges from the bottom and waves at them. "Tuberculosis free, I assume."

"Disappointed?" Harvey bitterly inquires.

"How did it go?" Donna intervenes, before the two men jump at each other's bones.

"Oh, we had fun." Stephen simply replies.

"Yeah, Stephen is nice." Penelope winks at him. Harvey feels his blood boiling into his veins.

Donna senses the urgency of the moment and takes the toddler from Harvey's arms, excusing herself, and announcing it's bed time. As soon as they're out of sight Harvey demands, "Grab your things and leave."

Stephen grimaces as his usual: pouting, raising is eyebrows and eyeing the floor with a hint of disapproval. He takes painfully long to accomplish his task, and - when he finally comes to stand on the threshold - he lets out, "We have a wonderful daughter."

Harvey chuckles darkly. "You had fun playing house, didn't you? Well, mark my words: it doesn't change shit."

Their looks are filled with hate now.

"Oh really?" Stephen dares.

"Really. You want to know why? Because I'm the one who's going to tuck her in, the one whose clothes are in the closet, the one she calls 'dad'. " He affirms forcefully, battle in his eyes. "Because I'm the one who belongs here, and you're the one who's getting kicked out."

.

Light footsteps approach the man currently splayed on the couch, back to her, glass filled with sweet poison between his fingers.

She's almost afraid of compromising his apparently peaceful state of mind, but the urge to be near him is overwhelming and she quietly finds herself placing a hand on his shoulder.

He flinches when the movement begins a descendent path down his chest, so that she's hugging him from behind. She's lightly straddled too, confused as to why her touch would be reason of nuisance. She tells herself it's probably just because it's late night and she's taken him off guard.

He slightly pulls the corner of his mouth up, giving her what can't exactly be considered a smile. She mirrors him, sitting down on the edge of the armrest of the easy chair alongside him. "I'd ask you why you're not into bed, but we both know what's keeping you up." She whispers, her right hand massaging his forearm's contracted muscles.

"Well," He sighs. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out." He brings the glass to his lips, covering his ambiguous expression behind it. It's like his whole body language screams her to stay away.

The comment is unnecessary, surprisingly painful, and has her straighten up. Taken aback from the harshness of his attitude, her eyes shift to the side, "You want to talk about it?" She suggests.

"What is there to talk about, Donna?" He scoffs, really not willing to let her dive into his still fresh wounds.

"What has gotten into you?" She slightly bends herself forward, her hands coming to stand on her knees as she slightly shakes her head. It's instinctive. She doesn't feel to properly stand up and turn into the fury they both know she can be. Instead, she's tired, tired of chasing after a piece of himself he holds tightly.

"Nothing! I was just trying to enjoy my drink, so now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to do that without bothering." He announces, suddenly getting up and heading to the expensive bottle of scotch that's screaming for a refill.

"And when exactly did I become 'bothering'?" She inquires sharply.

"You know what? I'm tired, I don't think it's the best-"

"No please, let's hear it out. I'm so looking forward to know why you keep treating me like shit." The role of the petulant wife doesn't have a good look on her. Although, she is well aware that if she doesn't push him, they'll never get passed it. It's a dangerous game, poking him till he pulls it all out. The droplets of sadness that have been souring into him might come out as a corrosive rain.

He, on the other hand, doesn't like to be forced into facing his feelings. So that's a shame that reading him like a book comes natural to her. Even though, this peculiarity of hers seem to work on his advantage when he's oblivious and needs a little help. Throughout the years he has gotten better at it, but the substance is still that. The fact is, he isn't putting the littlest effort right now, because he doesn't trust himself with what he would find digging. So, instead of opening up, he locks the door, swallowing in one swift motion the burning amber liquid - alongside a few hard feelings.

"Oh please, Harvey, just drop this whole passive-aggressive behavior of yours and come clean for once." She pleads, but not making use of any sign of a soft tone. It sounds more like an imposition, and Harvey doesn't like those.

"You don't always know how I'm feeling." He knows it's pure bullshit. He's not blind, and he has certainly gotten used to her showing him what's really the solution behind his puzzled head. For years she has known better, and has been patient enough for him to figure it out himself. It had gotten to a point he took it for granted that she would be there to save him from himself, no matter how much in denial he could have been.

"That right there." She holds her index up. "You can lie to yourself as much as you want, but you're not fooling me for a second. There's something else."

"That's enough." He senses he's about to burst, and really wishes it doesn't happen at all.

"Oh for god's sakes, Harvey. Just say it!" Her hands fly up in frustration. "Because I know we're going through hell, but it's not my fault!"

"Yes, it's your fault!" He spits out of the clear blue sky. "Because you just had to break your rule for that asshole. Because you just had to finally do the same for me after over a goddamn decade, but end up pregnant with god knows who!"

The vein on his forehead beats furiously, according to his labored breathing. Perfect simultaneity with the rise and fall of his chest. That was the last straw that broke the camel's back. She shouldn't have dived into the turbulent waters of whose fault it is, because deep down he knows he resents her.

It's nothing logical, really, and he hates himself for even thinking that. She had the absolute freedom of choosing whoever she wanted, and it was most certainly not her fault that said person turned out to be a monster. Plus, when it came down to them, he had been the first to jump at first the occasion of being with her - the fact that she was in bed with Stephen just a few days prior never once crossing his mind. Maybe not being careful enough to avoid a pregnancy concerned her a little bit, but she had had enough on her plate to be justified regarding that too; and it was not like he had been giving it a lot of thought himself.

So what is really blaming her for? Subconsciously, that - no matter what happens - her relationship with Penelope will be untouched, while he could lose it all.

"Good!" She yells, expelling a breath that seems to free her of all the pent up turmoil that was threatening to burst out.

"What you mean good?" He questions, certainly confused and surprised of such a positive answer to his blowout.

"I mean, we both knew there was something haunting you, and it's good you were finally able to say it!"

"This is ridiculous." Is the only thing he can say.

"No, it's not. Because, even if your words are hurting me, they're the first authentic ones I've heard in forever!" She argues.

So right now he fells worse than he already felt. It's painful to acknowledge she's too good for him. Donna has always been an altruistic soul, but undergo his frustrations and actually being happy about it because it's their first true interaction in weeks is too much even for her. He tears his eyes away, the sight of the emotional pain she's going through doing wonders to his own ache.

"Harvey you can't even look at me in the eyes." He doesn't have to see her to catch the desperation staining her shaky voice. It shifts something inside of him, and he actually decides to try.

The brown pools timorously make their way to her fatigued figure. He settles for just looking in her direction. He can still make out the misery written all over her face, the knots in her hair - suggesting she probably run her hands through it - , the unshed tears in her swollen eyes, but he knows what she means with looking at her. It's deeper, and it stands for seeing her - seeing what's underneath, her true soul. Funny how hard it is to see her now, when she was the only thing he used to be able to see.

"Here. I'm looking at you." He half-lies. But she doesn't need consolation prize. She sighs, letting her arms drop at her sides with a heavy thud. She falls on the couch, twisting the golden band around her finger. He wonders if it's an absent minded gesture or if it has a purpose.

"For the record, you keep talking about me, but maybe you should look in the mirror."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She looks up frowning.

"It means you haven't been yourself too, Donna. For a while." He observes.

"At least I'm acknowledging it. But you're raising your walls up!" She counters, while her eyebrows shoot up, eyes go wide and mouth splits agape. He doesn't recognize the woman that now comes to stand in front of him, a thick layer of angst covering ber light.

"But you know what?" She takes a few steps ahead. It's not until he can feel her hot breath against his chin, that he notices how close she is. Yet, she's miles away. "You can push me away as much as you want, but I'm not giving up on you. I won't let something like this get in the way between us. I will not let your stubbornness be the reason you fall out of love with me, because I still love you tremendously and-"

She's cut off when his mouth crashes against hers. The second his lips collide with hers he knows he has taken the best decision ever just going for it and shutting her up. He was honestly getting tired of talking when all he wanted to do was kissing her.

She's most certainly surprised by his bold move - and she may have taken out a muffled gasp at the sudden contact - but she kisses him back almost immediately. It's a spontaneous thing. After all they've always worked in tandem, and that hasn't changed a bit. Cherishing how responsive she was to his touch, he traces her bottom lip with his tongue, with the sole purpose of coaxing her into opening her mouth. Their tongues brush languidly against each other, and that feels absolutely paradise. It feels like they're slowly getting their previous selves back, discovering everything once again. The context is so different, yet the way she fits against him is so safely familiar and accommodating.

Harvey isn't surprised when she takes the initiative, she's a woman of action after all. Her hands sneak around the back of his head, pulling at the baby hair at the base of his neck and grinding her hips against him. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, they're everywhere - her hair, her cheeks, her rib cage - when they eventually gravitate in the natural place that are the smooth curves of her hips. He pushes her against him in a desperate attempt to get more friction. When he starts peppering her cleavage with open mouthed kisses, she tightens the grip on him, a soft moan escaping her. That's music to his hears.

Everything starts heating up even more, every kiss more urgent and hurried. She frees him of his now too tight sweat pants - along with his boxers - letting them pool at his ankles. Donna grabs his shoulders so tightly the skin underneath turns white, when he pushes her up against the countertop of their living room and finds her panties with ease, sliding them aside trough the rather accessible robe. She's aching for him and he's throbbing for her.

Even if their action had started in a hurry, when he gently slams into her, he does it so slowly that she can feel him stretch her walls and it almost drives her mad. Twin gasps escape their mouths, so they're eventually brought to break apart for oxygen - although never too distant. Her eyes find his for the first time of the night and a knot gathers in his throat upon her gaze. Now, it's now that he sees her, that he looks at her. The corners of her mouth curl up ever so slightly and he's back kissing her, never wanting a second apart again and mixing her salty tears with his own.

They set a slow tempo, as if they don't want it to end. It's too much and not enough at the same time. It's always been like this between them. The way he enters without effort lets him enjoy fully the feel of her warmth and velvet enveloping him, and he has to hold on to her for dear life - since his legs seem suddenly incapable of carrying his and her weight.

The rather silent space is filled with just their names - turned into honey as soon as the other says them - and the sound of their bodies fusing together. When he pants against her throat and she arches her back, they both brace themselves in anticipation for what's next. Their eyes lock once again, needing to see each other, as they both let go in the most natural and fulfilling way. As everything in their life, they do it together, at the same level.

"Hey," He says tucking a messy red lock behind her ear, looking her adoringly. "There you are."

"There you are." She mirrors him with commotion.

They decide that right there, wrapped in each other's embrace and their own mercy, they've never felt safer. It feels like coming home after a long time away, and maybe you don't exactly remember in which place you had your toothbrush, but it certainly feels familiar.

**And here we are, they still have just a few things to discuss, but the tone it's going to be so much lighter. Hope you liked that, please please let me know if you're still there.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Always a big thank you for your support. Your kindness makes this experience precious! Have fun reading, although I may be experiencing a kind of crisis with my writing. Hope you like this anyway.**

**G-**

As the warm colors of the morning light creep through the window's curtains, Donna's silhouette is painted with an ethereal glow. Harvey runs a finger across her forehead down to her jawline, before lacing his fingers with hers. She caresses his face with her slightly sleepy eyes - not that she actually minds having missed a night of sleep over some _quality time_ with her husband - and sets her chin on her hand currently above his naked chest.

It's been long, too long, since they've shared a moment like this. No rush, just enjoying being in each other's arms. And since a five year old and very demanding jobs always cut their time short, they cherish those very rare moments. Yet, despite seeming perfectly fine wrapped in the cotton sheets, she knows better and senses his tricky mind going full force.

"Hey," she calls him, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

He ponders if he should really break their little bubble and talk about their fight. But he knows he can't truly leave the past behind if he doesn't let it all out. "Those things I said to you last night..." He starts tentatively.

"Mh, I'm pretty sure those were mostly moans." She winks playfully at him while pursuing her lips, somehow seductively.

"Ha, very funny." He chuckles dryly. "No, I'm serious," he makes sure she understands, "I want you to listen to me carefully so there won't be any uncertainties."

She just nods at the intensity of his gaze. For the record, she has already gotten past everything he had said. Deep down she knew that they were just empty words dictated by his frustration, even if hearing them was certainly not pleasant or easy. But that wasn't her Harvey, and she had stopped letting his insults get under her skin as soon as she had recognized that. So she doesn't actually need to reopen the just healed wounds, but understands he does.

"What I said last night...I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did." She states. She's not pissed, she's not hurt, she's just- stating a fact.

"Well, it's not that easy." Harvey shrugs off. He sighs when she tilts her head in confusion. "Ok." He does know where he stands, has finally organized his feelings and cleared his mind, though explaining his train of thoughts it's much harder than just thinking about it.

He takes a deep breath.

Let's proceed with order.

"First of all, it doesn't excuse the way I reacted."

"There, you may have a point." Donna concedes, mind absently pressing her index just above his ribcage. "Go on." She suddenly seems interested in his apologies.

"Just because I feel those things, doesn't mean they're right." He says, but is well aware that he's not exactly making sense.

"I don't follow you." She slightly shakes her head. She doesn't understand where this is going, and she would lie if she didn't admit it was making her a little nervous.

"I'm saying that yes, it does bother me that you have decided to break your rule for someone who wasn't me. But just because I was regretting having wasted so many goddamn years and was seeing green because another man was lucky enough to have you, doesn't mean you hadn't had every right to do that." It's not the first time he has acknowledged so openly that he had indeed wanted her - even if subconsciously - all those years. Nevertheless, the concept of how every conversation, every moment they had shared back then might be read under that different perspective still sends shivers all down her arms. Harvey feels her smooth skin turning into goosebumps, and starts rubbing her forearms under his hot palms. "I'm also sorry that when we got together it was all so messy and rushed. I would have wanted to have a family with you, and that wasn't exactly how I had envisioned it." He confesses silently.

For years now Donna has wondered if he had suffered their skipping steps. Yes, they had waited years to get married - seeing it more as a formality, since it felt like they had always been together - but they found themselves taking care of a newborn very early on. And if everything had been a challenge for her, Donna couldn't imagine how it must have been for Harvey, who didn't even know if he was the biological father. If it had been her, Donna didn't know if she would have been so noble to take upon another woman's baby.

So, had she felt selfish letting him stay? Absolutely, but his help and support had come in the perfect moment, and she was really glad to have a shoulder to lean on.

"But that isn't certainly your fault, that I didn't mean. I forgot that it takes two to play tango." He rolls his eyes as if he's mentally scolding himself for his own behavior.

Harvey notices how something flashes through his wife's gaze. She tenses up, he can feel it, and he wonders if he's touched a sore point. "Hey, did I say something wrong?"

Donna turns on her back, grabs the end of the sheet and pulls it up to cover her chest, as if he hadn't already seen it all. He could trace a map of every inch of her body if he wanted to, remembering one by one all of her freckles even when they hadn't been intimate for years and more so now that they are together. But her need to be wrapped into something - even Harvey's own body - when they lie next to each other is a habit to die hard. It isn't a matter of pudency - he knows well that the woman can be completely uninhibited when it comes to them - but more of a complete involuntary fear of exposure. If she's straighten up, it's because she means business, and wants to feel confident while doing it. So when he spots her hardened nipples peaking through the almost transparent white sheets, he knows he has to swallow the want of going for another round.

"I've already asked you his but," She's moved by his honest concern, knowing that he's really putting effort to prove himself a better man. She believes the least she owns him is the truth. "did you stay with me because I was alone and you felt responsible?"

He props himself on his elbows and straightens up as well, "I didn't do it for pity."

"I'm not talking about pity. I'm talking about obligation."

.  
.

_Six years ago:_

_Donna doesn't believe it._

_Harvey doesn't understand it._

_She doesn't believe everything it's going to magically go back into place._

_He doesn't understand why she doesn't accept his solution._

_They have to face the biggest hardship of their lives so far, and are on complete opposite ends. Sitting down like two adults and talking about it in another place that's not the office - like they have nowhere else to conduct personal business - seemed like a good start. But they're quick to realize that the venue has little - if nothing - to do with their problem. They just have their own projection of the future, and they're too distant to eventually find common ground._

_He says that he wants this, a family, no matter if by blood or not. He says he wants them to have a home, to settle down and grow old together. He says he wants the everything she has longed for since forever. And he says it with such belief that it's almost reassuring._

_Except she thinks it's bullshit. She doesn't criticize the validity of his intentions, but the feasibility of them. Harvey's a good man. Even when he thought he wasn't, Donna's always seen what was underneath. Deep down, she knows for a fact that he would never run from his responsibilities. Having sex and then neglecting his feelings is one thing, but rejecting his own offspring is another. Giving that it's his offspring. So maybe he could really tell her to go to hell and leave her to deal alone with her mess. Except he tells her he wants in._

_It's a paradox, a true paradox. Because she should be happy he is offering her a hand, if it wasn't that it certainly feels out of obligation. Like he's most likely contributed to create the issue and now has to help her, not want. So she tells him it's just the spur of the moment, that he's trying to do the right thing and will regret it sometime from now on._

_"Do you trust me?" He asks, taking her hands in his. He's putting it on a personal level, and it takes all of her will not to cave._

_"It isn't about trust. I've always trusted you and you know it." She replies, retracting her hands to herself like they were on fire._

_"Then what is it about?"_

_"You! Because you think you want this now, but you're going to wake up one day and all you'll be able to see will be the things I was incapable of giving you." She cries out. It's the hormones, she tells herself. Her left hand is quick to cup her cheek, brushing away the hot tears with the help of her fingertips. Her head moves to the side in a futile attempt to hide the shame the fact of crying in front of him causes her. A sniffle breaks her façade and he wishes she could just let herself rely on him. Harvey doesn't know if it's the fact that she's carrying a human being, but he has never felt so protective towards the redhead. "I could never let you regret us." She murmurs._

_His first instinct is to tell her she's not making any sense, that after all they've been through he could never regret what they have. But he certainly will regret what they don't have. "You know I would never leave you." Harvey proceeds to place a hand on her knee, when she suddenly gets up and starts pacing around. Since he has been able to properly touch her that night, just a few months before, he now seems unable to do anything else. He wonders how he has survived without physical contact all these years._

_"That's even worse, because then I'd know I made you miserable. I wouldn't bear to know you stuck in a life you hate out of obligation." She counters._

_Harvey catches how her hands slowly gravitate to hold what he assumes would be her bump. She's wearing a shirt that's far from form-fitting, and her due date is still too far for her to have a proper one, but he can't wait to see how she'll look once she's really pregnant. He's truly excited for what's to come, and he's sure that something that feels so good can't be wrong._

_He bites his lip but is unable to suppress his chuckles._

_"I'm sorry, are- are you laughing right now?" She asks astonished, almost outraged by his behavior._

_"No it's-" he tries his best to regain control, still failing miserably. "It's just so clear." He finally admits raising his shoulders._

_"What is?"_

_"You're scared." He states with that big cheshire cat smirk and wrinkles at the corner of his eyes that just won't go away. "You thought you had to deal with the baby alone, and now that I've finally told you I want this too, it's becoming real and you're scared."_

_"And who says that I'm just scared? Who says that I simply don't want to have this baby?" She inquires, totally oblivious of the weak position she's put her opposition in, since she's still shielding the precious life currently developing inside of her._

_He smiles knowingly. "A mother who doesn't want her child doesn't care enough to protect it." Harvey points out, staring down at her tummy, encouraging her to do the same. Once she notices what she's been doing, she ponders if she should loosen her hold, but realizes it would be worthless. "Your hands have been resting there for a while and you haven't even noticed." He adds softly, almost a little proud._

_When her eyes come back up, he sees they've softened. She's finally giving in._

_"Donna," he brings them to make eye contact. "I'm not doing anything out of obligation. I'm doing it because I love you." The ease of how those three little - yet monumental - words escape his mouth make her breath catch in her throat. "And I already love the baby."_

.  
.

"You want to know something?"

Donna nods her head.

"You say it was obligation, I say it was a gift. I'd given up the idea of settling down, of having children, because the only person I've ever seen myself doing it with it's you."

"Harvey-" she says, but she's not quite sure what she wants him to do. Perhaps she wants him to stop exposing the core of his soul to her, because she's positive she might not take it. The commotion that makes his voice quiver is too much.

"It's always been you, even when I wasn't able to access it. You gave me the chance of being a father, and to love unconditionally another redhead. So screw it if she has my DNA or not, I get to raise someone with you and it feels like the rightest thing in this world."

When he looks at her like she hangs the moon, she has no need to make sure of that anymore.

.  
.

It's been weeks and they honestly can't take it anymore. Everything it's about Stephen: what Stephen wants, when Stephen wants it and how Stephen wants it. Their whole life revolves around Stephen Huntley. And it's exhausting to say the least.

It had started with casual-not-so-casual encounters, dinner dates, walks in the park. But giving him a little inch suddenly meant taking over a mile. Before they could figure it out, Stephen had already been attached to them like an annoying parasite, the only difference being that he's also extremely dangerous. Naturally, the married couple had thought about setting some more boundaries, but given up the idea since they weren't exactly in the position of negotiating and had no leverage whatsoever. Also, poking the bear didn't seem like the most beneficial idea.

Penelope had been introduced him as a former coworker of her parents, and still believes he's just that. But there's something in the man's attitude, like a hidden agenda, or an ulterior move, and she may be five - almost six if you ask her- but she's not stupid. The little girl is intuitive like her mother, and she smells trouble. She perceives the cordial relationship the three adults have is made up, and she's also positive the reason their parents fight this much is because of him. Yes, something's definitely wrong.

Donna tells herself she's doing the right thing, that she has to swallow the hard pill for the greater good, but when Stephen calls her office on a Thursday morning to tell her he wants to tell Penelope the truth, she crumbles like a sand castle.

He doesn't have to remind her that he'll press charges if they don't agree, so she abruptly hangs up the phone, almost smashing the machine. She feels hot and cold at the same time, and suddenly finds it impossible to sit still. Hoping her wobbly legs can manage to carry her to get some water, she gets up shaking.

"Hey Donna do you have a minute?" Mike wonders while opening the glass door of her office and walking inside.

Donna is positive that if she talks, words won't be the only thing that will be out of her mouth. But she has to answer to him, so swallows down the bile that is threatening to make its way up. "Not now." She manages to say.

"Please, I am at an impasse and I could really use some help." He pleads, but has his nose buried in the document he's currently highlighting. That's why he doesn't notice when Donna almost collapses onto the couch.

"So what you say we-" Mike raises his eyes up and stops mid sentence when he spots the shades of green and grey that stain Donna's expression. He shoves away the file in his hands with such urgency and approaches her. Asking what she needs, when she motions to the trash can standing near her desk, he reaches it with two big strides and hands it to her. He's not quick enough to question what she needs it for, that she empties the contents of her stomach in it. He's more than a little nauseated himself for all this retching, but does his best to help her, keeping her hair up and waiting for it to be over. After a few more wet coughs, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and lets her head fall on the armrest.

Mike proceeds to clean it up, not deeming it appropriate for her to do that, and wanting to accomplish a small improvement in her status. Smelling the ends of her lunch is definitely not what she needs right now.

"You should go home. Let's call Harvey." He suggests, while extending a couple of clean Kleenex.

"No," she forcefully shakes her head, still thrown back on the sofa, eyes shut, "You can't call Harvey, I'm not ready to tell him."

"Tell him what?" Mike sits down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She almost begs him to not let him know about her, claiming she can't face him now. "I messed it up, I really messed it up. It's all my fault." She rambles.

Mike swears he has never seen a more grievous scene, not concerning Donna anyway. The layer of water covering her tired eyes might just make its way down her eyelids, and he has never seen Donna cry. _Never._ She has always been so, well- _Donna_, and he isn't ready to see a superwoman like her just burst into tears. It's almost the demystification of a myth.

She lets him move her hair out of her face, enjoying the friendly caress the kid gives her. She knows he isn't a kid anymore, and she's grateful to have had him by her side in these past few years than ever. He's proved himself worthy and excellent support. That's why she lets him witness to her weakness.

"What happened Donna?" He asks softly, barely audible.

She shoots him a despairing look, when Harvey joins the picture, Rachel in tow, both of them looking for the corresponding partners. The whole fuss brings them both to Donna's bedside, eyes thick with apprehension. Rachel wants further explanations, but Mike knows better and encourages her to leave them alone. Despite her opposition, due to wanting to be involved in what's happening in her friend's life, since she's clearly going through something big, Rachel trusts Mike enough to eventually listen to him.

Once they're left alone, Harvey's head bobs down to seek any form of explanation he can get. It comes with his name, "Harvey" she breaths out, just above a whisper. It doesn't go unnoticed by him that the way it comes out resembles exactly the one when she had told him about Stephen's return. It's a plea for him to relieve her pain and for him to understand what she can't find the strength to say at the same time.

She takes a deep breath before eventually speaking up, "Stephen wants Penelope to know who he is." She confesses, the familiar nausea rising again at the pit of her stomach.

"No way. We're not going to do that." Harvey jumps up and takes a few steps ahead, his back facing her. The idea is not even crossing his mind. They've suffered too much to just give up now.

"The alternative is the paternity test." She quietly hints.

"Donna-" he turns to face her, not quite letting himself believe she could be considering it.

"I think we should do it." She blurts out.

It's a bolt from the blue. He's completely blindsided by her sudden shift of opinion, and realizes he has basically no one left by his side anymore. How can she even consider risking everything they have?

"I wouldn't have wanted to come to this, believe me. But we can't go on like this forever."

"Do you think I like having him around? I hate it, Donna, I fucking hate it! It's eating me alive and I'm _this_ close to punch him again," he shouts "but it doesn't change the fact that I would endure an entire life like this, if it meant having Penelope."

Donna lets out an heavy sigh, rubbing her chin a few times. She's a mess: hair all over the place, lipstick stains on her lips and sore taste of vomit in her mouth. "And this does you credit, but it isn't healthy. It's not good for us and it's not good for Penelope. We're not making her interests."

Harvey scoffs, "You mean your interests."

"No, Harvey. Hers. It confuses her, I can tell, and we should provide the best for her."

"And you think that I don't have that by heart?" He says with a chuckle that hasn't the littlest bit of fun. "I would have never ever thought you could lose faith in me."

"Harvey," she calls him, but he's too emotionally deaf to hear her.

"No, you know what? Do whatever you want, its your call since I'm clearly the selfish one in here." He buttons his vest and she's already sobbing by the time he reaches the door. "And I'm not coming home tonight. I'll be at my place if you need anything but I will not sit in front of Stephen while my world collapses under my feet."

**So, did I say it would have been better from now on? Mh, it's a little bit more complicated than that. Big blowbacks in the next chapter. Stay tuned. Thanks for putting up with me!**


	13. Chapter 13

**This is a big one, but first things first.**

**A guest told me in the reviews that the previous flashback's timing was incorrect, and as a matter of fact it was. (Pardon my dumbness. I corrected it, thanks again.) The guest was also curious as to why Harvey has still his own apartment, and by chance, right in this chapter I explain everything.**

**This is also where we find out why they have named the baby Penelope ( hope you like it! The whole thing is kind of my personal reason) and where the plot-twist happens.**

**Thank you for your kindness and as always let me know what you think, mostly because this is the most daring chapter I've ever let out.**

**G-**

Do you know when you have lived in college for several years and then come home for the holidays? How you find yourself in your teenage bedroom that feels in some kind of way familiar but oddly unaccustomed at the same time? How the only reality you've ever known suddenly represents just a memory? How what's supposed to be your home becomes your past? Yeah, that's just how Harvey feels about spending the night at his old condo.

Years ago, when he had pushed his ego aside for the sake of Donna, concluding it was better to move in her apartment, he had decided against selling his own anyway. Not because he had ever thought he'd needed it again, but because he couldn't bring himself to let it totally go. Harvey Specter isn't certainly the sentimental type, but that place holds so many memories, has witnessed winnings and losses and- okay, maybe he is a little bit sentimental. Of course, they could have rented it and gained some money, but they aren't exactly poor, they can afford not having an outcome.

The place has served its purpose by being mainly a big storage room and less frequently a personal study. That way Donna's happy, Harvey's happy, everyone's happy.

Though, as he enters the glacial space - privy of heat, since it's cold outside, or any sort of homely warmth, since no one has spent a night there in years - happiness is the last thing he feels. He actually feels alone, an heavy sense of melancholy taking over.

Discarding his suit jacket on a chair, he makes his way to the decanter to pour himself a generous amount of amber liquid. He can't help but notice how he has done the exact same thing so many times before, but so many years ago. It suddenly hits him that he had believed his lonely drunken nights were over. But the bottle being one of the very few things he has left there makes Harvey realize that some things never actually change. Funny how life works, because one of the last times he has been at his old place, everything was indeed about to change.

.

.

_Six years ago:_

_"Harvey, for Christ's sake, calm down!" Donna demands, rubbing her belly somehow vigorously._

_"Calm down?" He shouts so loud as if the person who had to get the message was the upper floor's tenant. She withdraws at his sudden five times higher pitch and covers her ear. "How do you expect me to calm down when I found you up there?" He signals the leather chair standing next the painting hung on his bedroom's wall._

_Donna believes he has definitely lost it. She knew it was going to happen one day or another, but she didn't expect it to be before eighty at least. It's the baby, she thinks. It's because they have only two-weeks-or-so before she comes and he's freaking out. Yes, she decides. It must be it. It's the only logical reason why he would shout at her for trying to get a painting off the wall. Yes, she has used the chair to help her up and reach it, but she wasn't exactly climbing the Empire State Building._

_"Up there?" She mocks, trying to suppress a giggle at the absurdity of his perspective._

_"Yes," he banters without missing a beat, "You could have fallen."_

_"I was at basically two inches from the ground!"_

_"Two inches that could have caused you two weeks pre-term." Harvey states satisfied with his response. She ignores the fact that he's basically telling her he wouldn't have given a shit if that happened to just her, but it's important to him now that she's pregnant. "Which reminds me, you should be home resting."_

_Donna visibly scoffs to get his attention, ever the actress, "We went over this, I'm pregnant, not ill." She protests._

_"Exactly, you should act like all the eight-months-pregnant ladies and sit down." The man points out, running a hand trough his gel-free hair._

_"Okay first, you don't tell me what to do." She claims with that slightly superior attitude that he loves to hate._

_"First, I've already told you that I'm not telling you what you should do, but what Penelope should do. Yet, you have to listen to me anyway, since she can't actually say anything on the matter and I have rights but practically no power of action because you're the one who's carrying her." He argues._

_"Oh pretty lawyer boy," she grins at him mischievously, "you have no idea how much I would love to have you carry her, just to witness to your pain once you'll have to get her out."_

_Harvey's eyebrows shoot to his hairline, "I see maternity has softened you up."_

_"Second," she reminds him she hasn't finished her speech just yet, "you need my help to pack everything in time."_

_She's not totally wrong. They are running out of time and every important thing has to be relocated to Donna's apartment before the baby is born. They are also waiting for the stroller and the crib to arrive, not to mention the incredibly safe baby carrier (the first one of the top-ten, if you ask Harvey) they have yet to order._

_"That thing's been there probably longer than me! I didn't even remember it!" He wines, at which Donna grunts._

_"What is it? You feeling ok? Do you want to sit down?" Harvey asks suddenly concerned._

_She rolls her eyes so far back it hurts, "You." She simply says. "I'm not feeling ok, not because I've made a teeny tiny movement to get a damn painting off the wall, but because you keep breathing on my neck and this kid won't stop jumping on my poor bladder." Her hands fly up in frustration. "And no, I don't want to sit down. I want to keep working till-"_

_She stops mid sentence and, as soon as she does it, she shuts her eyes. Her expression is pure discomfort._

_"I'll ask you what happened, but I'm afraid you're going to hurt me."_

_"I think I just peed myself." She sheeply confesses, turning red._

_"No, Donna." Harvey says, giving a look at her pants and then the floor. "You're actually leaking. No human in the world could hold so much pee."_

_Their eyes meet in a second and their mouths slam wide open. Her water's just break. They don't need to vocalize it to know the other thinks the same. They don't have the time to properly process their feelings that Harvey is in full operative mood._

_"Ok, let's get you to the hospital." He clasps his hands together with a deep thud and tells her this with a calmness that doesn't fool anyone._

_"But- two weeks. We still had two weeks. That's not fair. No, we're not ready." She murmurs to herself in disbelief, but clearly loud enough for Harvey to hear._

_"Doesn't matter. She's ready."_

_"We don't even have a carrier. We're already horrible parents." She weakly protests, while he chaperones her to the exit._

_"You know who are horrible parents? The ones who let their child be born in a now dusty condo. Therefore, let's get to the hospital."_

_Penelope is going to take her first breath almost twenty hours later. They have Louis borrow them a carrier that was Esther's, and they make it home perfectly fine. Harvey is going to mock Donna for their baby's timing for the rest of her life, deeming he was right._

_Although, they never take the painting back._

.

.

As Harvey has made himself 'comfortable', he tries to find some sleep under the covers. He knows he won't get any, after all, there's still that painting on the wall that keeps staring at him.

.

.

Donna sets down on the table the forks and plates with shaky hands. The unwavering sense of nausea still threatens her, but moving around and breathing deeply in-and-out seem to provide a little help. If it wasn't for the fact that her mind won't let go of her and Harvey's fight. His words keep playing like a broken record, and every time the scene repeats it feels like a stab in the guts.

She sniffles softly as a salty tear gathers upon her eyelid, but doesn't escape it. She's well aware that if she lets that single one stain her cheek, soon it would be followed by many many more and she definitely won't be able to stop. With Penelope and Stephen about to join her at the same table she's currently setting, she's positive it isn't the best choice.

She's messed up, she's really messed up. She did it not realizing who Stephen truly was in the first place, and then sleeping with him forgetting her pill. Seriously, what was she thinking? She's always considered foolish and unconscious women who aren't careful enough and then cry over spilled milk, but she now realizes she is not that different.

Part of her has second thoughts about having let herself just be with Harvey that night in his office as Stephen had just been imprisoned, too. She could never regret finally dropping his and her pretense and showing each other that the way they cared about one another had little to do with just mutual respect, but she should have been more judicious and should have waited for her mind to be stable again. After all, Donna had become top notch at detaching herself from the smallest voice in her head that told her to go for it. However, she had needed him that night.

Right now, she just needs to detach herself from her own feelings and endure a couple of hours with that familiar polite mask attached to her grievous face.

The doorbell rings and she's straddled by the unfamiliar sound. Harvey never buzzes. Since the other time, he has always knocked. She would recognize his three sharp knocks everywhere. Although, what she finds in front of her once she pushes the handle is no Harvey Specter.

"Hi," Stephen greets her with what would be considered a warm smile, "thanks for having me over."

She rolls her eyes. As if she had any other choice. She decides against vocalizing the thought that just occurred, and motions him to make his way inside.

She notices he's holding a blue plastic paper bag. One she finds oddly familiar. The pharmacy at the corner of the street, if she has to guess. As if on cue, Stephen reaches for the content of the sack and takes it out, showing off a tub of ice cream. Lifting it up like a champion who just won the biggest trophy he announces, "Someone told me that on Thursdays we get ice cream!"

Little yet fast footsteps precede the consequential advent of Penelope, who jumps up and down on her spot, looking expectedly at her beloved sugar treat. She doesn't like the man who brought it enough, the least he could do is having bought the flavor she actually wants.

"I hope that is Cookies and Cream." She challenges openly, crossing her little arms in front of her.

Stephen turns the package around to show the inscription that gives her a positive answer. Penelope squeals and, for a moment, she forgets that she's mad. She's only five after all. Stealing the object from the man's hands, she tries to open it with her teeth. Donna hates it when she does that. It's a very bad habit of hers and the older woman doesn't mind scolding her yet again, "P! Drop it." She lightly smacks her arm. "We'll eat that for dessert. Now thank Stephen and go wash your hands, dinner's ready." She instructs, patting gently her shoulder.

Nevertheless reluctantly, she obliges.

"No Harvey tonight?" Stephen indicates the only three plates placed on the table.

"No Harvey tonight." She bitterly confirms, and he doesn't even try to hide his amusement, which splays a big grin on his face.

Time goes by slower than ever and Donna finds absurd how everything about what they're doing feels just forced and wrong. There's tension, even if well hidden, and she can't help but feel Stephen's presence more suffocating than it ever has. It feels a lot whole more like an intrusion - like trying to fit a cube in a circle - and she prays for it to end soon.

After a couple of hours, Penelope is tucked into bed, the Cookies & Cream half-eaten in the refrigerator, and she and Stephen are sitting on opposite ends of the couch. She finds herself glancing around the room awkwardly, and her eyes land on an old photograph. Her holding her baby bump. She remembers it like it was yesterday, the carefree simple nights out Harvey and her shared when they were just two. Although, it also feels like a lifetime ago. She finds it hard to recall a day her daughter hasn't crossed her mind, a day she hasn't tucked her in or a day she was just _Donna_ and not _mom_. She doesn't mind it at all.

"She said you had told her that was a special memory." Stephen's voice cuts the silence. Donna's eyes move from the frame to him.

"It is indeed." She nods her head. "I- we had found out the gender of the baby and decided her name that night." She briefly explains.

"Why did you pick Penelope?" He wonders, moved by genuine curiosity.

"Well, at first everyone rejected my idea, because - I mean - it's most certainly not a common name." She angles herself so that she's looking at him more directly.

"It's beautiful though, so elegant." Stephen grabs his glass of wine and drinks from it.

"Yes, but it wasn't just because it was pretty." He gives her a look, piercing blue eyes that encourage her to go further. "When I was in high school I used to study greek literature, and my professor truly loved The Odyssey. I remember him spending entire hours talking about this powerful feminine character-"

"Penelope."

"Penelope." She states. He scoots closer to her. "She's been the first woman in the occidental culture to be defined by epithets that only belonged to men. She was independent and strong and so clever, I just thought those were the characteristics I would have wanted for my daughter." She shrugs.

Stephen just nods his head in acknowledgement, taking the information in. He would have never guessed such a deep and meaningful process she went through to choose Penelope's name.

"And part of the decision might have been influenced by the fact that Kourtney Kardashian named her daughter that way." She adds, hiding her smirk behind the glass she holds.

He laughs with sentiment, and she soon follows path. Donna takes just a sip of her wine and then leaves it almost untouched on the coffee table. Licking her lips and tasting the bitter savour, she decides she's not feeling like drinking tonight. She looks at Stephen and realizes he's way closer than before. She doesn't distance herself though, quite the contrary, she believes she shouldn't feel this relaxed in such a context.

"Well," he starts, "have you thought about what I asked you?"

She swallows, "Stephen we had made an agreement, I have bent at all your wishes, why would you want to put me in this position?" She leverages the small part of him that cares about her more than himself.

"You're doing this for Harvey, aren't you?" He guesses.

She just lowers her gaze, and her body language is more than a spoken answer.

"You see, I see you, Donna," He sets his empty glass on the table's surface, making company to her full one. "this situation is not the only thing you've outgrown."

She sighs loudly before he coaxes her to look at him, "And if Harvey is too selfish to see that, he's not the right man for you."

For how close they stand, their condition might me misread. But then again, would it actually be misreading? Because the way he looks at her lips with purpose can't be misread.

"It's more complicated than that."

"Is it? Because I think that him not being here for you tonight is very simple." He chuckles dryly before continuing, "I'm sorry, sorry for all the pain that I've caused you, sorry for all the things I've missed, but- I love you, Donna." She eyes his in disbelief. She has never thought such words would ever come from somebody that isn't her husband. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere. So, if you let me, I'm going to spend everyday of my life to prove to you that I can be it."

Then, he leans in and goes to press his lips against hers.

.

.

It's almost seven when Harvey is home. Home. Yeah, if last night didn't prove to him that his condo is way forgotten as 'home', he doesn't know what could. Home is wherever Penelope and Donna are, and he doesn't want to erase that notion ever again.

Saying he didn't get a wink of sleep is an understatement, since he's pretty sure he has developed the capacity of blinking like two times per hour. But the time he has tossed and turned has definitely helped clearing his mind.

He's going to tell Donna he wants the paternity test. She's right - as always - they can't live that way anymore. As much as ignorance is bliss, he can't fool himself forever. But most of all, it's not right towards Penelope. Yes, she's just a kid, has not lived enough to understand what paternity means, but throwing her in this continue push and pull is not wise.

He does his best to keep it quiet, not deeming the hour appropriate to wake his family up just yet. He almost tiptoes to his and Donna's bedroom, and slowly opens the door to sneak in.

He stops dead in his tracks when he finds Donna's eyes.

Oh, she's awake alright.

Her cheeks are flushed, her hair's messy and voluminous, her mouth is slightly agape and breathing heavily. He knows that look very well on her, because he's the one who would normally cause it.

For some reason (that he indeed knows very well) his eyes don't immediately go down to scan the entire scene. No, it actually takes him an awful amount of time to really see whose hands are possessively grasping her. But he knows, he just knows. It wouldn't really matter, cause they're not his anyway.

She rolls off Stephen almost immediately, pulling the covers to her. But he's already seen more than enough.

Donna.

Stephen.

In her bed.

In _their_ bed.

Jeez, why does he keep staring?

"Harvey..." she cries out, but he's too preoccupied looking at Stephen's smirk as he runs a hand up her bare arm to acknowledge the plea.

He should probably be angry, saying that all the times he has been insecure he had indeed been right. He should hate her and say she's a bitch for cheating on him, and on top of all, with that man. But he just feels like dying. He could cry and fall on his knees right then and there, but he's too nauseated and shocked to stay there and let them enjoy the effect they have on him.

So he just runs away.

**Sooo, that happened, but please before trying to track me down to kill me, wait for the next chapter. I'll have you know that writing this actually made my poor stomach turn. If you comment, try to split your thoughts about the first (cute) part and the last (outrageous) part.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A quick few things before you read this one that I've decided it's the penultimate chapter.  
READ IMPORTANT:**  
**I don't know how many people still read or are happy to read my work after last time. I regret almost nothing because I've planned to do it since I've started this fix and challenged myself since I knew I could make it turn it out good. Still, I also knew that if I had been a reader myself, I would have probably had your same reaction. That's why I warned you at the beginning of the chapter and told you to have faith in me, because things aren't exactly like they seem.**

**I'm glad for many people who have trusted me, but I'm also sad because the most hurtful comments were from guests and I couldn't reply to them and reassure them the way I did with the others. So please read this, so maybe I'll know that my hard work hasn't been ruined because of some stupid stuff that you'll have clarified right as you begin reading.**  
**Turns out I'm pretty satisfied and hope you can enjoy this. I've been pretty emotional this whole time.**

**G-**

_Time has stopped flowing, and he suddenly finds himself in a life that he doesn't recognize his anymore._

_Donna._

_Stephen._

_In her bed._

_In their bed._

_Jeez, why does he keep staring?_

_"Harvey..." she cries out, but he's too preoccupied looking at Stephen's smirk as he runs a hand up her bare arm to acknowledge the plea._

_He should probably be angry, saying that all the times he has been insecure he had indeed been right. He should hate her and say she's a bitch for cheating on him, and on top of all, with that man. But he just feels like dying. He could cry and fall on his knees right then and there, but he's too nauseated and shocked to stay there and let them enjoy the effect they have on him._

_So he just runs away._

After that, everything's confused. He doesn't know where he is, what he is doing, what is happening. He lets himself get swallowed in the spiral he's falling into, and he suddenly wakes up in a halt.

The surroundings are dark, a blinding darkness, and he finds it incredibly hard to discern where dizziness ends and reality begins. It's when he gropingly searches for something tangible, that his hands bump into the lamp on the nightstand next to him. Harvey switches the light on with trembling struggle, brightening the room. His corneas aren't ready to face the rawness of the newfound shine, and he shies away from it, rubbing his sore eyes.

_Paternity test. His condo. Scotch. Painting. Donna. Stephen._

Everything comes back to his memory, as he has just enlightened his brain. The knot gathered in his stomach tightens, as he tries to follow a rational trail of thoughts. He checks his phone: it's Friday and it's early, a time he would have been up anyway when he used to hit the gym or go for a run, but not that late that the sun is up. In what he thinks it's safe to call now a nightmare, instead of reality, he had gotten back to Donna in the morning. That means whatever he had witnessed to was fictitious. It's so clear, he had dreamt it. His damaged mind must have made it up after he had gotten to his apartment last night, because he's still here. None of that was real.

Then why can't he shake the horrible feeling that maybe, just maybe, that's what's really happening right now? No, Donna would never do that. They may have fought, but cheating is something she would never even consider. She's too smart for that. Yet, his heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage indicates him that, Stephen or not Stephen, he has been an idiot leaving her alone and closing himself to the outside world one more time. It has taken him years, but he's gotten past that. That's exactly why he throws away the covers and jumps out of bed, to go tell Donna she has him, now and forever.

He reaches a whole new level of efficiency, getting ready in a hurry and rushing to their home in less than twenty minutes. But every steps he makes, his mind can't help but go back to his dream, and he finds the similarities between the two dimensions frightening. His run, his excitement to see her and talk to her, and when his feet carry him to the door, the new fear of what he might find inside.

A hot lump sums up his throat, and, despite the almost choke and the air that seems unable to stay down his lungs, he convinces himself he's grown and has to face whatever he might walk into. Tentatively at first and determine at last, he gets inside the 206 apartment.

His wobbly legs manage to take him to the living room, where he catches a glimpse of red hair.

Donna is curled up on the couch, back facing him and hot cup of what he assumes from the smell is her beloved herbal tea between her fingertips. Right on cue, as if she senses his presence, which she probably just does, she turns around.

Her bloodshot eyes break and soothe his heart in equal measure. Harvey has never been able to stand seeing her cry, him being the blatant cause of that. But at the same time, that gives him the hope she's hurting just as much as him - not that he has ever wanted them to come to that anyway - and that they may still be on the same page. They have to be.

He should tell her just that, except he's rooted on that spot, looking at her a not mustering up a word.

"Harvey," she whispers.

Donna is reading him like a book - an easy one on top of that - and her senses tingle. The resolve in his eyes tells her he has come up with something, his laboured breath tells her that he couldn't wait to share that with her, the fatigue and softness in his attitude tells her he's done fighting.

"Where is- what happened last night?" He asks between gasps. He's not mad, she knows he's not. But he's looking around like he's missing something and she desperately wants him to grasp it so they can move on. But this time for good, this time without uncertainties hanging above their heads.

"How did you do it?" She sniffles. Yet again, they're caught in one of their telepathic conversations, not words needed for her to understand that he got that from living close to her, but words very much occurred for when she retraces last night events.

.  
.

_"I love you and I'm not going anywhere. So, if you let me, I'm going to spend everyday of my life to prove to you that I can be it."_

_Then, he leans in and goes to press his lips against hers._

_Donna doesn't register what's going on right away. She is talking to him one second, and the other he's invading her personal space. She's positive she might have blacked out for a moment, but as soon as she senses his mouth on hers, she instantly retracts, snapped back to reality. A reality she would very like not to be her own._

_Her hand moves out of its own accord, lifting from the couch, flying up in the air and then landing on Stephen's cheek with a loud smack. He gasps and when her hand leaves his now reddish cheekbone, he instinctively replaces it with his own, covering his bruise._

_"What do you think you're doing?" She lashes out, anger very much present in her tone._

_He throws her a puzzled look, frowning and keeping pressure on the right side of his face, scanning his fingers every once in a while in a futile attempt to relieve some pain. Damn, she did it him hard._

_"I-" he starts, but doesn't really know what to say not to upset her even more. He's walking on a minefield and she's speaking pretty louder than what's usually deemed for common causal conversation. In all fairness, she's probably either going to wake her neighbors or Penelope up, and he does not want to alarm either of them. Though, he cannot just stay there on his sorry ass and stare at her like a deer caught in the headlights. "Thought we- we were having a moment..." he rambles almost putting it as a question to himself, more than an excuse._

_"And exactly what kind of moment would we be having?" She asks obviously rhetorically, even Stephen gets that. Yes, she may have not showered him with her usual pretty flattering comments about what a horrible man he is, but it shouldn't be considered green light to kiss her. God, even the thought makes her guts churn._

_"Look D-"_

_"No." She stops him abruptly. "I think you should go." She eyes the joined hands - one of them still sore for the weeks-in-the-making slap - while almost politely signaling him the exit. If he had confused her intentions, or had wanted to confuse them, she has to be as direct as possible. Leave no room for doubt. And that starts by making him leave her and Harvey's home._

_Stephen is now regretting his move. He had gained an upper hand, and not given by his impositions, but by one of Harvey's lacks; it was a genuine ease he thought he was putting them in, but he pushed it too much. He thinks about trying to hang on some other cue, but from the way she's sheltering her body, he can tell she's not quite serene. It won't work._

_He may have blowed up his chance with Donna, but there's still Penelope. With her, he has one more shot. He pushes himself off the couch and how Donna distances herself when he passes over her doesn't go unnoticed. He grabs his coat in religious silence, while his eyes catches Donna fiddling with her fingers, probably waiting for him to be out of the door. He feels it. The rush, the need to be alone. But he's not done, yet._

_"I'd still like for you to agree to have the test done. We both know it's not really up to you to decide, but I don't think we have to come to an imposition." He stops at the threshold and looks at the woman behind his shoulder._

_"Right." She snickers drearily. The disappointment in her voice is definitely seeping out._

_"What's that supposed to mean? Is it so absurd that I want to know if I have a daughter or not?" He turns fully to look at her. The darkness of the hallway is in contrast with her pale skin and littlest solitaire hanging around her long neck._

_"Stop it. Just stop it." She scoffs, followed by the widest roll of eyes he's ever witnessed to. "This whole thing, doing the martyr. It's bullshit." She traces a loop in the air around his slim figure, highlighting the object of her accusations._

_"I beg your pardon?" Stephen widens his eyes._

_She's tired. Tired of pretending she's on board with everything he says, tired to pretend she keeps up with him, trying pretend she's okay to submit to his abuse and to be silent. She guesses she has nothing to lose now. She won't hold back, she's done it for too long and it's nearly killing her._

_"You heard me. You act like this is about a moral concept, like it isn't personal, but I think it is. I mean, you get out of prison and there you are, alone, not knowing what to do with your life. Afterward, you learn there's this slight possibility that you may have a child, and here it is, the chance to start again. And since then, you have hung on every last string you could pull to make it happen, not caring about what stood in your way. So no, I won't let you play the victim any longer."_

_Stephen looks at her and sees nothing if not determination. She has the fierceness of a lioness protecting her children, the resolve of a queen ruling her reign, the tenacity of a man fighting for its liberty. And you can't possibly argue with that. "I don't know what you want me to say to that." He shrugs, while he pokes his inside cheek with his tongue._

_"Don't say anything, just leave me alone." With motions the door with one fluid motion of her head, ginger curls dancing with her. Yet, there's no softness in her gesture, just pure stiffness._

_Everything tells him that this is a battle he can't win, and he opens the door himself to get out._

_"He might leave you, you know?" He can't help but say at last, not even facing her. The silence he meets encourages him to go further, "Once the result comes. He might not handle the situation anymore."_

_"Yes, he might." He hears her sigh, picturing her tired face. He can feel it burning his skin. "But that changes nothing between us. No matter how it will turn out with Harvey, I could never ever be with you. You are a cold calculator, not a good man. And that most certainly has little to do with my husband, and very much to do with your persona."_

_"You're making a mistake."_

_"I can deal with the consequences." She shrugs, and if he would just turn his head a little bit, he could see the phantom of a smirk playing at the end of her lips._

_He closes the door again, and, for a moment, she's worried that she'll have to call the cops. But he just says, "So I'll just- be very quiet and kiss Penelope goodnight-"_

_"I would prefer if you didn't do that." She raises a hand to create an imaginary barrier between the innocent girl sleeping in the room down the hallway and the_ man.

"U_ntil we have something, you are still no one. And don't think that some piece of paper is going to make her suddenly love you. Don't get any ideas, you may be her biological father, but don't act like you're her dad. Because Harvey is and she couldn't have had better." That said, she's decided she's had enough, getting past him and pushing him to the other side of the wooden piece of forniture that holds the golden numbers '206', closing it._

_Donna lets out a shaky breath, the adrenaline that was rushing through her veins just moments before suddenly dries out. What was keeping her up has ran out and she falls, leaning against the door, back slithering down it as she takes a sit on the floor. Her knees fold against her chest, while she rests her head between her hands. A quiet sob escapes her._

_"Are you crying?" A tiny voice startles her, and she snaps her eyes, open and vigilant again, weeping the moisture that was covering them. She was so buried in her misery that she hadn't noticed the toddler waking up and walking to her._

_She opts for a casual smile, some kind of comfort to resemble the role she should always take upon, but that she now feels inadequate for. Her bottom lip quivers pretty badly, so she presses it and the upper one together, trying to give her appearance some kind of credibility. But the way her daughter looks at her, while hugging herself, very much disoriented, eyes heavy with interrupted sleep and fear, she's turned into puddle._

_"Did he do something to you?" The little girl shyly asks, almost as if she doesn't want to hear the answer because she still won't know what to do. Penelope shifts her weight from one foot to another, waiting for her to say something._

_"No baby," Donna opens her arms welcomingly, inviting her in her embrace, "He upset me. I just don't like him very much." She adds, freeing Penelope's forehead from messy orangey strands of hair, kissing the uncovered spot. Her chin rests on top of her head._

_"Me neither." Penelope admits, causing Donna to look down, seeking an answer with a puzzled expression._

_"I thought you did." Jeez, she has always prided herself with being able to know people better than they know themselves, and she has no clue of what's going on in her own daughter's head._

_"He was trying to buy me with ice cream." The child shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Donna chuckles and she feels proudness filling her chest._

_There's a twinkle in Penelope's eyes, and she finds it impossible to believe that she could have anything in common with that murderer. If he indeed is her father, Donna's glad she took after her, and, she must admit, a little after Harvey too. Yes, because the might not share the same DNA, but the way she talks, the way she smiles, the way she thinks, is all Harvey._

_Her mother's arms that envelope her contribute to create a warm and safe space, where she nearly falls asleep again. A yawn triggers Donna's maternal side, and she's ready to accomplish her duties by putting the kid to bed._

_The two redheads rest in bed together that night, its small size forcing Donna to be crushed by Penelope's weight all above her chest; but there, literally surrounded by her daughter's body and sweet scent, she finds a quietness she never thought reachable._

.  
.

It makes sense. Really, now everything just makes sense. Harvey is fine. He doesn't comprehend how Donna can be so brave to confront Stephen, while he can't even cope with his own fears. If there was any doubt they had to know, now is totally gone.

The cold and sticky morning air prickles their skin and it brings a new breath of freshness. Everything fells more tangible, clearer, and it's like Harvey has just woken up after an epiphany. But maybe he's too deep in his own realizations because he registers after several seconds that Donna is the one who is speaking.

"If last night made me realize something, is that I've failed as a mother. Because the only thing I would have wanted to make sure of, is that no matter what could happen, Penelope would be protected. I made a promise to her, and to you, and to myself, that I would make her live a normal life, that she would have the best and that I wouldn't cause her any harm. I thought I was keeping her out of this, but I now realize that she has suffered this whole time, and I've failed to notice that. And doing this- keeping her in this eternal limbo, it nearly kills me."

"I feel the same way." He quietly admits, finally moved by her words. "And you haven't failed as a mother."

She lowers her gaze, and he just has to let her understand that he means what he's saying, that it's nothing if not a fact. "You listen to me," he walks to her and, with a tug of his index anchored under her chin, lifts her head. He forces her to make eye contact, because it's the only way he can show her his true feelings. "You have always demanded too much from yourself. And you succeed in ninety-nine percent of the time, but that one percent left is what makes me proud of loving you everyday. You have allowed me to have some kind of ransom for my father, who I bet would have loved to teach me how to be one. But that is one of the many things you've helped me accept, because I got to learn along the way with you."

"You're going to make me cry." She states, and Harvey decides to bypass the fact that his hand is already soaking with her tears. That's okay, he's shredding them too and he's not ashamed of it.

"I'm just getting started." He chocks a little on these exact words. "I couldn't stand the idea of not being her biological dad and knowing that, not because I wouldn't love Penelope the way I love her now, but because I was afraid I'd just become 'Harvey' instead of 'dad'. But watching you, being the way you are, always putting anyone before you, and wanting to do better every single time, makes me want to do that too. We're going to find out the truth, and it's going to be okay, because as long as I'm with you, everything is. You make me brave."

And then, Donna just throws her arms around him, bracing herself to the one man who is guilty of making her so unstable she has to reach out in the first place. Yet, he is both disease and cure.

.  
.

It's days later when they go to an analysis laboratory to have their blood drawn. Penelope complains she can't have breakfast that morning and has to wake up way earlier than when she would on a daily basis. The whole place smells of antiseptic, and while they should be glad it's a clean space, it only fuels the nausea of all the three of them. Harvey because his life is probably about to change, Donna for the same reason as Harvey and something more she can't quite pinpoint, Penelope because she deep down knows they're about to do something she's not going to like.

As a matter of fact, when the doctor does insert the needle - after what seems like an eternity of fuss and screams and fights to get her to cooperate - the little girl lets out a muffled high-pitched cry. Something snaps inside of Donna. They shouldn't allow you to hear sounds like that one get out a person you actually made and grew inside of you. More so, if they're doing that for something this huge. It's like a strange attachment disorder, but Donna thinks it's what everyone just calls motherhood.

They drop the kid off to Mike and Rachel's place, who have been informed just days before of the real deal. Maybe at first Rachel had been a little offended that her best friend didn't let her in about this sooner, but, other than that, the couple has been nothing if not supportive. They are going to keep their goddaughter occupied while Donna and Harvey go back to the clinic to be informed with Stephen about the outcome.

Harvey has contacts even in the medical field, and has used the friendship with one of the wealthy man he's met at a gala a couple of years ago to get the results in a few hours. The wait is the last thing they should add to the load.

He taps his leg furiously on the ground, and both of them are definitely sure this is the most difficult thing they've ever have had to do in their entire existence.

But it's still them, Harvey and Donna - the dream team - and if they can overcome that, they can overcome everything.

"If it comes out negative, then we'll love you even more. Because then we'll know you've been given us all of yourself indistinctly and unreservedly. And Penelope is smart like you, she's going to remember who was the one to help her tie her shoes and who was the one to take care of her when she was sick." She tells him before getting in the consultation room. "Every time there's a crisis, you don't freeze, you move forward, and that's what I've always admired of you. Don't stop now. Have faith. You'll always be her dad."

Harvey takes her hand and gets ready to conquer the world. They brush off Stephen, not bothering to acknowledge his presence in the room where the doctors talks them through the results. Harvey's hand clasped into Donna's, holding onto dear life.

_Just have faith._

.  
.

Mike and Rachel are playing with Penelope, fully concentrated in a drawing contest, when their heads shoot up and their eyes exchange a knowing look at the sound of the doorbell.

They drop everything and rush to the door. Donna and Harvey are there, with answers, and if they're not good ones, they're seriously afraid they won't survive another scene like Harvey hugging Penelope goodbye a couple of hours ago. Him crushing her fragile figure - even if he seemed to be the most fragile one - in what looked like their last interaction. Anguish corrodes them as they open the door.

Time's up.

End of the game.

**So, turns out it was just a dream, and they're stronger than ever. I'm sorry I'm leaving you with another cliffhanger, you can hate me as much as you want, but it was for the best and this is the last one ever anyways. Now I'm sad. Please, do tell what you think and brace yourself for the last chapter. After all, cope with my need of attention just one last time.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I cannot believe that we've come to this but THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER. You are going to finally have an answer and get a little surprise at the end. (A couple of you might have figured it out because I left some clues here and there in the past two chapters; then tell me who guessed!)**

**I'm so thankful for all of your incredible support, without that, it would have been all meaningless. This has been the most incredible journey and if it were for me, I'd selfishly let it go on forever. But sadly, I'm trying to be as philosophical as I can and face the end.**

**Of course, I have to come to terms with the fact that this last piece cannot be as I wanted it, because it would be utopia. Though, I really hope you're going to like it. I will miss so so much these particular Harvey and Donna, and (sorry not sorry) messing with them. Not to mention, I feel in love with my own Penelope.**

**Enjoy this!**

**G-**

The wooden door gets opened with a sonorous squeak, the kind you get when you haven't lubed the hooks in a long time. It feels old, it feels lived, it feels comfortable.

Mike and Rachel wish from the bottom of their hearts time could just freeze, to enjoy another moment of blissful ignorance and somehow receive a little heads-up before they'll get the seemingly feasible slap of knowledge in the face. Nevertheless, the moment takes as long as expected; a bunch of seconds and they come face to face with the respective best friends.

The couple had foreseen every viable kind of reaction — from bloodshot orbs, to big toothy from ear to ear smiles — but nothing could have prepared them for what they really experience. That is... nothing. Absolutely nothing. The cosmic void. Not the littlest excerpt of any kind of sentiment transpires by their traits, and mentioned lack of expression makes their blood run cold. The younger lawyers crave for the slightest hint of any resolution, praying for the others to give in and land whatever piece of the life-changing news — positive or negative that is — they are willing to let go. To just share with them. But they are met with nothing more than two perfectly aseptic faces.

The thousand questions flying around their heads die on their tongues, not really brave enough to break the bubble. Rachel gulps, and the sound alone resonates in the space, louder for the lack of conversation filling the air around them. They can discern the barking of a dog from afar, the faint voices of some cooking program the neighbors are probably watching right now, their heavy in-and-out breathing. These are the only sounds that catch their ears for what seems like forever. Albeit a fifth person would say it was just a few seconds.

Bark, cooking, in. Bark, cooking, out.

Bark-

"Hi dad." A little voice breaks the deafening silence. They all turn their attention to the toddler currently waving at Harvey, eager to see him and her mom back. She's got a brand new drawing to show them, and she flashes it proudly, like the first man on the moon did with the american flag. Penelope is a mix of reddish messy locks, half-up in a ponytail, bouncing up and down, the smoothest curve of rosy lips blooming in a radiant smile, marks of crayons on her little digits. _Those are necessary in every good painter,_ her grandma Lily would say.

Harvey seems to be taken out of his daze, like washed by a bucket of iced water, and begins to take three brazen steps in her direction.

Somewhere in the process, Mike realizes his former mentor lets go of Donna's hand, meaning that he had held it all that time and they hadn't even noticed. To be fair, it's definitely most likely to spot something odd when two people like them — a perfect interlock — are parted than when they fit together. Mike thinks about the years when the concept of them even touching was surreal, and the irony of it all doesn't get lost on him.

Penelope looks at him with the kind of excitement that only a child can own, blinking a few times while extending her free hand. She aims to catch his attention, acknowledgment by some kind of contact. Cheerful and completely oblivious, she still waits for her number one fan to take her in his arms and compliment her, but the sharp contrast with Harvey's coldness is so striking they fear she can sense it. _Don't you dare leave her like this,_ the godparents internally scream.

Right then, quick as lighting, so fast they think they may have imagined it, Harvey hoists her up and envelopes her in an all-consuming hug. His muscles contract under the tight-fitting dress shirt, and they wonder how Penelope isn't currently gasping for air. She's the last drop of water in the desert, and Harvey is lost and thirsty. Thirsty of love. To give and to take.

Mike and Rachel divert their gazes to Donna, expectantly. Is it a goodbye to all the memories they have built together? Or is it a celebration of them and the new ones to come? The redhead tears her eyes away from the unfolding scene with effort. There's a moment, a pregnant pause, the stasis before the world keeps spinning again, in which they swear they can see the edge of her lips slightly curling up. Something shifts that second, they can feel it.

The human being hopes, and it's afraid to be left with nothing if not disappointment. It's cruel reality, that even when he achieves happiness, he's reluctant of fully committing to it. He's too sceptical to see what's right in front of his stupid face — how funny is it that this is something completely in tune with Harvey and Donna's story. It's goddamn hard to finally break away from the paralyzing fear, but Donna realizes that she's now allowed to believe again, and she doesn't have to tiptoe around joy, afraid someone can take it away from her.

For the first time she concedes them — and herself — the proof that everything is indeed going to be okay, and that message is conveyed with an almost non-existent nod of head. But it's there, and it's everything. They all hold their breaths; "Hi, _my_ sweet baby girl." Harvey's chocked and muffled voice emerges as light to brighten up the room and their lives.

Mike exhales with relief and the tension leaves his body, depriving it of the stoic posture it had settled into. He turns to his wife, who's likewise overwhelmed by the wide set of emotions she believed impossible to feel all in such a small span of time. The brunette's hand rests above her heart, as to coax it into stopping the assaulting beat over her ribcage. She can't help but let out a wet chuckle, and Mike outstretches an arm that wraps around her shoulder. His head hides in the crook of her neck, covering his glistening eyes. Their empathy never ceases to amaze. They just have so much to thank them for, from Harvey giving Mike the job which resulted as the biggest turn of his life, to Donna giving Rachel a shoulder to cry on every chance she got. That and every little pretty big deal in between. They're family.

Donna would love nothing more than to launch herself into the affectionate embrace between the fruit of her loins and the man who made possible for it to ripen, but decides against it. Harvey deserves to enjoy this father-daughter moment alone, having space to process the new assets and certainties. To live under this new perspective. Hers, after all, isn't too bad either. She can silently appreciate the similarities between Penelope's jaw and Harvey's, how the frown of her brows resembles so much his, and the cut of her lips aspire to a Cheshire Cat smile. Like, _really_ cherish them, knowing that it isn't just figment of her imagination.

It dawns to her now, that she and Harvey have gone beyond.

Being the upscale woman she is, Donna used to scorn herself for not being capable of manage every single aspect of her life. It made her feel vulnerable, submitted to standards she seemed to heighten herself whenever she was close to brush them, and unsuitable for the merciless business she still operates in. She has maneuvered deals, instrumentalised the well practiced arts of charm and persuasion, manipulated people through them, never allowing the world to see her break a sweat.

Something incompatible the second the gynecologist put the squirmy, fuzzy, pink bundle of joy on her chest. She has had quite a hard time wrapping her head around it — her new priority and the fact she had to respond of her actions to somebody else too — but she accepts that everything is no longer under her control. And it's okay, even so. If she believed Harvey was her soft spot, actually creating someone from scratch, growing it and watching it become a person at 360 degrees on the mold of him, yeah, it goes pretty beyond anything. There will never be anyone that amazes, loves, frightens and makes her happy more than them.

_You can never go back._

A lonely tear escapes the confines of its ducts. Just one, because she has no reason to shed them anymore.

Penelope does her best to figure out what's gotten into all of them. Adults are just strange, she assumes. But there's something weighting the atmosphere, like this magnetic force that pulls the gravity of the situation towards her. Something so present, she can almost palpate it. And while she's got the acting gene by her mother, so likes being at the center of the attention, the core, somehow it's just different. It's different the way they look at her, it's different the way they behave, it's different the way her dad holds her. She knows it for a fact, because it's the same way she latches on him when she's scared of the height, or when he takes her to the zoo and an elephant is coming too close for her liking, or even when her bedroom is too dark and she needs someone. There's need of protection, need to feel, need to make sure there's someone to hold onto. And if maybe, just maybe, she would have heard Harvey whisper to himself, "I've always known you were mine." she could have understood what all that commotion was about. But maybe it's better this way.

.  
.

They were keen to start this new chapter of their life, in love as ever, self-conscious of their shortcomings and without any secrets. They sleep all through the night, happy and content, with nothing that can trouble their sweet dreams. Still, they both agreed that their fresh start needed some kind of 'getting rid of old stuff', even if it reminded Donna of her college spring-cleaning days. It came as a natural agreement, as they were lying in bed together, Penelope fast asleep between them, a mess of limbs and comfortable pajamas.

Harvey's arm is trapped under the napping form of his daughter, already tingling toward numbness, but there's no way in hell he's going to move them. He's willing to leave her into Morpheus' arms a little longer and endure some soreness in exchange.

"Something bugging you?"

"Mh?"

"You're clenching your jaw so hard it seems like you're trying to crack a nut with your teeth." She points at him. _Funny_, he thinks. He hasn't even noticed. But again, his wife is way more in tune with his feelings than he is. She's just better at it.

Now that he pays attention to it, there's indeed been something bothering him. Since he has laid down on the soft cotton sheets, he hasn't been able to relax, quite the contrary. He's felt restless, like annoyed by a bug that was silently taking over his king-size mattress. If he was a little more aware of his feelings, he'd find the analogy quite poignant. It doesn't take a graduated analyst to figure out that the germ infecting his habitat is a certain convicted felon and that the bed is really... well his bed literally and his life broadly speaking.

Harvey looks down at his daughter. He sees her, close to the peak of her bloom, yet knocked down by the ultimate turmoil they put her through. She's supposed to found her emotional strength now, and he wants to set a good example. So, freeing his chest from all that could keep him from giving her the best version of himself seems effortless.

"The night we didn't spend together," she nods, as she collocates whatever he's going to say in a chronological space. "I happened to have a bad, really bad, dream. And let's just say that this bed brings back some unpleasant memories," he strokes Penelope's hair. "Of you... and Stephen... and- please don't make me go further." He grimaces at the thought of his precious bride turned into an unfaithful woman, captured by the arms of who might as well have been the devil.

"I don't want you to," she reassures him, reaching for his hand and placing hers on top of it. Donna sympathizes. She gets him, and wants to make sure he knows just that. "And you shouldn't feel this way in your own house, in your own bed. Which, by the way, has been untouched by any other man since-"

"Please don't say his name."

"I was going to say since my father came to visit us, pretty." She nudges him with her elbow. He quietly laughs, she does the same. It's nice that they can finally joke about that.

"It's ok. It will just take some time for me to delete that image from my head." He shrugs, but to Donna it doesn't feel like something they should underestimate.

"What if we moved out?" The words are out of her mouth, hitting his eardrums before she can stop them.

Harvey is beyond stunned by her sudden proposal, eyes popping out dangerously, "Donna, are you crazy? No, there's no need." He dismisses while his hands cup the little kid's ears to prevent her from listening and consequently stir.

"But, I mean, it makes sense. We are trying to move on, and this place," she raises her dark manicured hands, gesturing spectacularly around "as much as it holds many great memories, you and I both know it's been theater of just as many bad ones lately."

_She does have a point_, Harvey thinks. Plus, he cannot deny that the thought of building a new home with Donna sounds thrilling.

"But this has been your home since I've known you. You don't have to give it up for me. You don't _ever_ have to give up _anything_ for me." He reasons.

"Oh sweet Jesus, your such a sap." Her eyes are all soft for him though, so they basically betray her. He knows she secretly loves every second of his mushy pleasantries. So much for '_flattery will get you everywhere_'. "And I'm not giving up anything, because home is where you and this little brat are." Donna adds, gently bristling Penelope's hair. She might wake her, but who actually cares. Long gone are the nights where she would hate waking up her sleeping baby to breastfeed, terrified she would never come back to sleep. She's almost nostalgic now, to be honest.

"Who's the sap now?" He gives her a look.

"Come on! I'm serious." She urges him, while playfully slapping his free arm. "What you say?" She's looking at him impatiently, with bated breath, as if she doesn't know he would follow her everywhere.

"I say," he leans forward as much as Penelope allows him and places an innocent, yet meaningful peck on her lips. "it's not a wrong idea, after all."

She says, "Good."

He mirrors, "Good."

Then he just rubs his chin thoughtfully, pretending to give a look at his options. After a wide moment of 'deep reflection', he finally speaks, "But I have two conditions."

"Oh, do you now?" Donna narrows her eyes.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Alright." She comes to sit straight, angling herself to give him her full attention. "Shoot."

"First, we're going to hang that painting with the red hallway on it that's probably making mould in my old bedroom." He displays, meeting a more than surprised look playing on her face.

"That's your first?" Donna wonders. "Yeah... sure. Why not?"

_This is going well so far_. And Harvey's positive she won't argue with the next point.

"And second, we're going to buy a single-family house."

"I thought you hated those."Donna frowns. _This man is certainly full of surprises tonight_, she thinks.

"Yeah, maybe I did years ago when I had no one to live in with. But I think that we're going to need as much space as possible if we're going to expand our family." Donna's breath catches in her throat._ Did he just_...? "Penelope keeps asking us to get her a dog, and I don't think we're going to get out of this anytime soon." He concludes.

_Right. A dog._ She was expecting something less... furry and quadruped. But she gets it, really.

She would lie if she didn't admit that the thought of giving Penelope a brother or a sister hasn't crossed her mind from time to time. Because it has. To relieve the experience of the pregnancy in a definitely steadier condition in the first place, but also because — _come on_ — who wouldn't want to have any more kids with that handsome man of hers? As a matter of fact, Harvey and her already had been trying for their second baby, after about three years since Penelope's arrival.

And if she had cursed the fertility of her body when she got knocked up unexpectedly the first time, nature and karma had a strange way of revolving, and she found herself crying to sleep because this time she just couldn't. No matter how hard they tried, something didn't work. And it was silly, really, since they were already parents. Yet, something about being ready this time around, truly wanting it, and still not being able to conceive was heartbreaking.

They decided to stop eventually, when they realized that their sex was just calculated and lacked of passion whatsoever, an when their frustration over something they couldn't control was obnubilating their relationship. Somehow she had been opened up to the possibility again, but lately, with all the Stephen fiasco, she figured he wouldn't want to tie himself more than he was already.

Harvey notices how her eyes look down and how her face basically drops, understanding that she's the most clever woman he knows, but sometimes still without a clue when it comes to him. He breaks his joke, "And who knows... maybe a few more kids?" He promotes almost casually.

Her head immediately shoots up and you can't miss how her face lights up. He likes that look on her. But she wouldn't be Donna if she didn't opt to play hard to get. "A few more? Do I look like a rabbit to you? Do you want to raise a baseball team?"

"I'd raise a soccer team with you, Donna." He says sincerely.

Donna smirks because, little does he know, they're on the right track.

.  
.

Harvey Specter doesn't stare. Yes, he could appreciate from afar like a gentleman, maybe acting on his likings in a more direct way when he spotted someone pretty; but if he happened to find a nice blonde or brunette in some random bar, he just had to wink and the game was up. So he had never had to wait in a corner to let a girl understand his intentions anyway. The closer never found himself unable to tear his eyes from someone and silently appreciating its beauty without purposeful looks, neither tentative faces. But of course, it was before he met his former Girl Friday.

He can't quite pinpoint what's particularly captivating about her this time, but she's sure as hell appealing. Donna is a fine woman when she suits herself up for work or events, her statuesque silhouette and the way it seems like she could run all over you have always been a big turn-on for him. Except this morning she's not erected on five inches Manolo Blahnik, neither wrapped in one of her tailored Dior sheath dresses, or wearing her hair in loosened smooth waves for the matter. Instead, her usual attire is traded for yoga pants, a far too stretched around her middle tank top, and a checkered bottom down hanging open around her shoulders. Oh, and is it important to mention she's put on _flats_ and a messy bun?

So, Harvey isn't just staring, he's ogling.

He has always been a total wreck when it came to her, no one could just compare. He has found himself searching for fiery red hair more than once, all the others suddenly not relevant. He doesn't really know if it is out of love, but he has genuinely never seen someone as beautiful as her. And maybe it is influenced by her character, or her perfect features, or her stunning physique, but he believes there's just one more little thing that he misses. Because out there there are plenty of beautiful women, but she's just... _different_. He doesn't want to find out though, wants to be surprised each time and discover what drives him crazy about her every day. The chase is exhilarating, and he says it as the most natural thing in the world.

Today, for example, she's got this typical extra glow.

"Are you sure this thing has ever been off?" She struggles with the pins of the painting, already annoyed by the fact that it isn't coming down and her husband's help is close to zero. She turns to find him glued to the bed, at least two feet from her, "Can you stop ogling, it's not something a gentleman would do."

"Oh, but I believe we have plentifully established that I'm not a gentleman." He teases her getting up and closing the gap between them. His body is close enough that she can feel the warmth of his presence on her back even without a proper touch, and if they say that '_to await a pleasure, is itself a pleasure_', well it's totally working for her.

"You were the one who put this damn thing as a condition, and now you're going to have to give me a hand." Donna raises further up the already rolled-up sleeves and puts her hands on her hips with a sassy attitude. Harvey places his hot palms there, encouraging her to loosen up a bit.

She muses for a second, then she suddenly giggles. "What?" Harvey queries with a hint of jest.

"Just reminiscing." She encircles his neck. "You, two-weeks-to-go pregnant me, a very _highly_ dangerous seat..." she trails off.

"Alright," he scowls "but, just for the record, I was right. Or do I need to remind you that there was amniotic fluid all over the place?"

Donna rolls her eyes, "It wasn't because of the chair and you know it."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night." Harvey pulls her closer and the shorter tufts that have escaped the scrunchie fall like a curtain. "You remember that?"

"I'm Donna, I remember everything."

Harvey shakes his head, as he adjusts her ragged shirt, with the most spontaneous caring gesture she's ever witnessed to.

"And I also remembered to give the real estate consultant a call. Told him to filter out our research: only single-family houses."

"Convinced to get a dog?"

"Mh, well that might have to wait. It seems like we already have a third bedroom to fill." And then she gives him _that_ look, one that is so incredibly _Donna_, with eyes that speak volumes and more than a thousand words at the same time, daring him to grasp what she just confessed.

It takes Harvey just a second, then he stalls. Nervousness starts to muscle in, spreading a tacit crunch in her abdomen. At this point Donna is positive she has broken him, because he still hasn't batted an eye.

Then, "What did you just say to me?" He chokes out. "Because if you're saying what I think you're saying."

"Harvey," She gently takes his hand and interlocks their fingers, and he lets her. He lets her guide him, through the dark toward the light, as she's done since day one. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes are blazing, a surge of enthusiasm and happiness swells his chest fully. Happiness, most of all happinesses. He's sure he's never really felt it, the pure, sheer and whole sense of the word, till this woman happened to him. _No, scratch that_. Since this badass had the guts to come to him.

This woman who made him a better man, who made him want to be a better man.

This woman who stood by his side when everybody else left.

This woman who has always been unapologetic for who she is and who has brighten up his life with her spirit.

This woman who is the mother of his _two_ children, product of years of understanding, trust, devotion and love.

This woman who made him have _faith_.

He will probably never be able to put into words his gratitude, because everything seems so disturbingly not enough. He figures taking her in his arms and spinning her around, hoisting her like the most valuable and precious thing in the world, is a good start.

"We are going to have another baby." He overwhelmingly tells her with tears that tarnish his vision.

"We are going to have another baby." She nods away the commotion.

Donna feared she wouldn't be able to love another baby as much as Penelope. She believed she had a certain quantity of love to give, and her firstborn and Harvey took it all. But knowing another little human is growing inside of her supplies her with an endless amount. She's filled to the brink, and she's eternally thankful for that.

"Wait a second," his face turns serious for a second, soon replaced by a waggish grin "are you sure it's mine this time?"

Donna smacks his chest.

"What?" He pushes his flesh against hers, and she just smiles softly. "Too soon?"

"Right on time."

**And, that's really it. Unless you want a little bit of a time-jump to see how things are working out, let me know. I'm going to take a little big of time to clear my head and then start writing again, because I already have a couple of ideas. Please tell me what would you like to read next (multi-chapter, one-shots...)**

**A big thank you to all of you. Love you endlessly!**


	16. Epilogue

**A quick thing before you enjoy these 1.320 words of complete fluff. Someone asked me what happened with Stephen, but when they had made the deal, they established that the one who wasn't the father would step back. There was no reason to stick around anyway.**

**I'm a bit of a perfectionist and odd numbers really bother me, so if you do review, please don't leave like 99. It could make me go crazy. After this little detail you'll already think I'm crazy, so there's nothing left to say than THANK YOU and let's hit 100 ;)**

**G-**

Donna falls heavily with all of her weight — both physical and mental — on the unmade bed, the covers rolled up creating a bulge under her back, but she doesn't really mind that much.

Before, making the bed was her first thought when she woke up in the morning, except now she doesn't even know what morning is. Is it midnight? Three a.m.? Noon? She wouldn't really know. They need to eat like savage lion puppies, no matter the hour. They just take and take, till she has nothing left to give.

Exhausted doesn't even begin to describe how she feels, since she's brought the term to a whole new level. She believes she hasn't even properly comprehended the concept of exhaustion till she actually experienced it. Her bones ache, her nipples ache, and she's positive she could close her eyes and never open them again.

Those kids are maniacs, she decides. They have fun developing a new sixth sense: whenever she can relax, they cry their lungs out.

Yet this time, she realizes, she's managing to stay recumbent for several minutes, and it's still quiet.

Too quiet.

She hears scampering on her brand new parquet, and she instantly freezes, holding her breath. She's afraid — No, screw it. She's terrified — that if she moves a finger, something will trigger that pestiferous pet and it'll wake up the kids.

She stills, eyes closed, as the mattress tilts under the weight of her new friend joining her nap. The golden retriever spins around twice, paws digging possessively into the latex — marking the territory — in a rhythmic succession and he finally curls up next to her. Donna's hand tentatively lowers to pat the dog's head, who promptly rests his head on her leg.

"Good boy." She compliments, exhaling a sigh of relief. Maybe she could bond with him after all. She's never been too fond of animals in general, but as long as they don't pee or poop anywhere in the house or go crazy for a minimal noise, she's fine with it.

But she's speaking too soon, as the sound of the key opening the door resonates through the hallway, straight into the bedroom. It startles their calmness, and the dog instantly stands, ears fully on attention.

"No, please. I'm begging you." She whispers as she awaits the inevitable.

A bark follows, loud enough to elicit a wail from the adjacent room. The baby monitor is on in any case, so the desperate cries melt into a deafening concert. The pet jumps off the bed and runs down the hallway to greet the newcomer.

Donna's hands fly up to cover her face, and she feels like crying. It's what she'll probably do, but for now she limits on writhing for a few seconds, before eventually pushing herself off the comfortable bed and getting up to assist the babies.

She curses under her breath, entering the nursery and picking an infant up, taking her out of the shared space before it results in the waking up of the other twin. She joins Harvey in the living room, where the dog is occupied sniffling his clothing and wagging his tail enthusiastically.

"Ok, so you've been out to buy a pacifier for almost an hour, and when you do decide to come back, you wake up the entire house!" She reprimands, bouncing the crying newborn up and down.

Harvey looks at her a little bewildered, "I think I might have closed my eyes for a few minutes in the parking lot."

"Good for you." She mocks. "I was just trying to do that when that thing started baying like we were under nuclear attack!"

"Hey!" Harvey scolds her. "His name is Rick, and he's not that bad." He adds, giving him a scratch behind his ears.

"Rick might as well be the Antichrist! Need to remind you that he's the reason we had to buy a new pacifier in the first place? Because he chewed the last one?" She complains, as a new high pitched weep fills the air.

Harvey's instincts kick in and the needy cry of his son urges him to give him his complete attention. He walks to the nursery murmuring, "we wouldn't need a second pacifier if they weren't two."

As soon as he scoops him up, the baby boy stops all the fuss, wrapping his minuscule hand around his index. Harvey smirks broadly and thanks the lord they were two after all. He and Donna have certainly that much love to give and even more. So much more. But he bets she'll never let him near again. Not after having casually slipped him a brochure about vasectomy the other day. Maybe the whole baseball team idea was too much.

"I will never understand how is it that you always manage to calm her down." She says, a little bit jealous since she can't seem soothe the other baby currently squirming in her arms.

He grins at her and she would very much like to either slap or kiss that smirk off his handsome face. "I'm a natural." He shrugs. "But I think it begins with actually recognizing them."

Donna frowns.

"I'm holding Jason. You're holding Electra." He points out with a hint of amusement.

Red flushes her cheeks and she tries to suppress her own chuckles at the absurdity of the situation. "See, I'm too tired to even think straight." She recovers. "Which is why we need to get rid of that dog. Send him to a farm where he'll live his happily ever after, running even miles if he wants to."

"Come with me." He nods his head in the direction of Penelope's room. (Turns out they were in need of many bedrooms alright) They switch babies and Donna huffs when baby Electra settles down incredibly quick in Harvey's arms. She's a girl after all, Specter works like a charm.

Quietly opening the door, they peek through the wingspan and watch as Penelope gently brushes Rick's fur, telling him about how she fed her baby siblings that morning.

It's a mesmerizing vision that warms their hearts, since they're both so taken with the twins, they're glad their daughter is so emotional mature to follow this new whole set of changes so smoothly.

Harvey turns to his wife with a lovely smile, "We do our best not to make her feel alone, but babies require time and in moments like this one, she needs that dog."

Donna sniffles, because he's right and thinking about her family always makes her emotional. It's like every child she's ever given birth for this man has taken a little piece of her. And she feels overwhelmed because it's such a strong bond that she can almost sense their same emotions.

"You're an amazing father." She looks at him with complete adoration.

"And you," he gives her a peck on the forehead. "are an amazing mum. Even if I wish you had gone to a normal high school, since you keep naming our children the strangest ways."

"Oh come on. Electra was a very powerful woman, and Jason, who took the Golden Fleece?"

"You have to remember Electra killed her mother."

Donna covers the baby's tiny ears as she shushes her boyish husband. "You're an idiot." She shakes her head.

"And yet, you had three of my children."

"You want me to call Stephen to babysit?" She banters, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nah, the man has just settled down in London, let's let him stay there." He jokes, and marvels how easy it has become to joke about what could have been their end not so long ago.

"I love you." She says, so simple yet so monumental.

"I love you too." He tells her, and kisses her again.

For the uncountable number of years they've stood side by side, for every tear they've shed, every laugh they shared, every kid and every dog they're ever have.


End file.
